I Am Sitting in a Room

This room is a silent room, as I am the only one in here... I think. When I was brought here, no one joined me. I wish someone did. But as far as I am aware, there could be many invisible, quiet people here with me. Or, perhaps someone mute is standing behind me right now... Those are nice thoughts. I do enjoy company.
This room is a white room. The walls and ceiling are the same bright color... I think. I am seated on the floor, facing forward, so I can only see - at the most - three walls at a time. The wall to my back could be a completely different color. But I do not want to turn around; I do enjoy these simple, white, soft walls.
This room is a safe room, as there are no doors or windows to let bad things in... I think. Though the wall to my back may have one or more door or window, I only truly fear my own mind. Insanity slithers along my cerebrum like a serpent; spiders of madness creep along my frontal lobe, hide in its folds, and spin their silken webs of lucidity... But the floor I am sitting on is padded, and I do enjoy that.
I am sitting in a room. Somebody brought me into this room a long time ago. It was indeed a very long time ago, as I cannot remember how much time has past. Was the person that brought me here my friend? If so, why would they bring me here? Forget me here? Weeks, months, possibly years have passed. It has been so long, how can I tell if I have died already or not? I absolutely do not enjoy sitting in this room.
Category:Mental Illness
Category:Places
Category:Micropasta