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White Room

326 Words - February 7th 2013


Just an old vent piece I found while cleaning up the dusty corners of my DeviantArt, written when I was around 15 years old.

It's tacky and filled with the edginess of a confused teenager of that age, and as such, I can't help but find it endearing in a rather bittersweet way...

I'm archiving it for nostalgia's sake (And also so I can delete it off of DeviantArt without losing it permanently lmao)

White Room

In a mysterious white room, there lies a girl.
She sits alone, naked, and with her eyes covered with a bandage.
The room is filled with boxes with different sizes and names such as “Family” and “Friends”.

But the girl just stands in the middle.
She keeps smiling calmly.
I stand in the front door.

Is this a dream?
I know this girl.
She looks familiar.

But I just can’t remember anything.
Maybe she’s my sister? My friend? My family?
I don’t know.

Her skin is tan and her hair is long and dark brown.
Do I even know someone who looks like that?
The girl turns her head and her smile changes to an expression of worry.

"Is anyone there?"
I shiver and try to stay silent, but I know she can feel my presence.
"I’m just hearing things, stupid me." She laughs.

A voice echoes in the room
"You’re stupid, no one actually cares about you. Why would anyone bother to visit you? Stupid girl."
She laughs a bit and says sarcastically "Wow, thank you for reminding me."

The voice… It sounds so familiar.
"But I know you’re right. I’m a terrible person, why would anyone care? Why do I keep worrying?"
"It’s because you’re stupid. It’s simple as that. Your so-called "friends" hate you. They all think you’re annoying and loud. You actually think that they care about you, but you’re just a clown in their eyes."

The girl laughs again, a horrible laugh mixed with a painful cry "I know right?!"
I look at her, then at the room.
All the boxes are perfectly organized, around the "Family" and the "Friends" boxes there are photos of people, but I don’t know any of them.

I keep thinking about the girl and the voice.
Then I notice something.
There’s a mirror in the corner of the room.

I stare at it and freeze in fear.
I am the girl.
And I am the voice.

Author's Note - Ten years later, looking back at this makes me feel... strange. I suppose even back then, I found little comfort in being told all my bad thoughts were all in my head, therefore my fault. It didn't matter where they came from, I just wanted for them to go away.

The self-loathing voice sounds different nowadays, it takes the form of the people who have hurt me, but I still know it's mine. I wish I could tell 2013 Jay that the voice would leave, yet I hope they'd take comfort in knowing we'd learn to live with it.

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