I Sit Here

I sit at the table. And there’s a teddy resting under my chair. I sit here alone, in this room. No one knows I sit here. I don’t know whether it’s day or night, I don’t care. The air is light and it smells of quartz, so lulling. The whole room is blue, only the lamp on the table is pale yellow, like a moth. I sit here and dream, and I talk to the lamp. The clock on the wall is ticking rhythmically, like a metronome… 

I pick up the teddy from under the chair, and I put it on the table next to me. I can see its color now – it’s brown. And the black buttons of its eyes gleam. I put it back on the floor.

There is a window to the left of me. The curtains are partially drawn together. I can see trees through the window. The outside looks like a park. It’s serene  and inviting. If I could go out. But I’m glued to the chair. Nothing ever changes in this room. No idea. The lamp blinks slightly. I should have learned Morse code, I think to myself. That conversation could go more easily. I sigh. What am I doing here? How did I get here? Or maybe I always was here? I do not remember being anywhere else.

I glance at the teddy, it’s still where I left it. And it gives me a kind of consolation. Something I don’t know chooses to stay with me. And here comes something I must have failed to notice just a moment ago. A needle sticks out of the teddy’s head. And a thread is put through it. Strange. I take the needle out and place it by the lamp. The thread is white. 

A sheet of paper. A clear, immaculate sheet, and a pencil. What should I write today? About the park I saw? Or about the teddy, the conversation with the lamp? No, I’d rather write something about yesterday. Yesterday there was a mirror in this room. It’s not today. No, I was wrong to say nothing ever changes here. Everyday a thing disappears. Another one eludes the eyes. Like my reflection in that mirror. I looked into it, I didn’t see myself.

I look at the sheet of paper , wiggling the pencil in my hand. No, I won’t write anything today. For tomorrow it will disappear, or I’ll burn it again after it’s finished. I put aside the pencil. The trees in the park stir. Gee, I must be in a maze of nothingness. I’ll never figure out the purpose of the place I’m about to spend my eternity in. If nothing signifies danger, and there’s so much loveliness, then where did the rats go? Where are those sly monster eyes watching me from the corners and from beneath the radiator? Disguised, or vanished into thin air.

I know a day will come when the last remaining entity in this room will disappear. That will be me. Only blank walls will face one another. And maybe I’ll be free. I pray for this day to come. I hear the clock ticking. Time is a tedious thing when it comes to waiting. But it’s worth it, and it’s never late to …

For now I sit here, in this room, at this table. Trying not to get lost… in my mind. Staring at the box of matches. Wanting to burn this place down, right now… But with each blink of the eye giving it another day… or night.