Days A.T.

Day 001 A.T.

I woke up in a room with white walls. I used to love the color white. It used to impress me how much space there was for something new. Now, I simply want to see the color of darkness; I’d prefer to be surrounded by black walls. Where all the colors and creations come together. After all, it’s easiest to imagine things in the shadows. At least, that’s what he told me.

We used to sit together, watching the waterfall. The colors that showed were unlike anything imaginable… until of course, I looked into his eyes. Then, those colors were normal. They were nothing like gazing into his eyes, a waterfall that had the depth of the ocean.

They’ll be mad if they see me writing about this, but I don’t care. I know he is real, as real as I am at least. However, what if I’m not real? Then, we’re equal… again.

~~~~~~

They came in and handed me a tray. They keep their distance from me, like what I have is a disease. They give me that pitiful smile as if I’m counting down the days in my deathbed. I would smile back, but they’ll think I’m “improving “.

I haven’t spoken to any of these people since they found me outside the forest that day. They talk and talk and talk in hopes to make me feel comfortable around them. However, I find silence to be the most comforting. Or… at least his silence. It was like a blanket which kept me warm. We didn’t need to talk, nor did we need to smile at each other.

I remember everything about him…. how we first met, how he would rarely talk, how his arms felt around me, how he made me feel normal. I miss him so much. I can still feel the comfort his voice gave off when he sang to the stars at night.

I wonder why they want me to write this. I’m tired of how when I look away from these pages, the speakers come to life simply for a woman’s voice to tell me to write or talk. Maybe someday, my words will reach someone. Maybe these words will find him and bring him back to me.

~~~~~~

I was instructed to talk about myself. They looked over my shoulder and got annoyed that I only talked about him. I guess I should put something so that they’ll leave me be. I don’t get why though, they have all my information on those papers they carry with them. You see them right? The pages that are pulling their arms off. Yeah, those. They have all the information on me, but oh well.

My name is Choi Syumin. I’m Korean, if you’re wondering why my name is like this. I’m originally from Jeju Island but my parents wanted to move onto the mainland. Now we live in Busan. I’m a boy who’s been forced to live through 16 years of life.

I miss him, I’m tired of introducing myself. If I’m talking about anyone, it’s going to be about him. The clock which is embedded into the walls now says that it’s ten p.m. That means that I should get some sleep. They wake me up three times throughout the night so I’d better get some sleep in now before I can’t get anything.