Perhaps I was trapped here, but was I? I never found this place to be fully indulging, but I want to drown in it. I wished to understand the principle in my mind. I shall drown in the dark and live in the light. As I thought of upstairs, it was colder, colder than needles piercing through me, and frightening. The walls reached higher than what walls could ever protect. The windows showed the inside, and not the outside. As I walked towards the three doors, I heard the sounds of walking, perhaps it was pacing around its room. I walked towards the wooden door.
I heard walking sounds from downstairs. A pacing sound. A sound in rhythm. Is it an intruder? Should I go inside one of the rooms or should I check downstairs?
Perhaps it was that person? I turned my back, and then I was in the living room. It was him, no it was not him. It was his family of him. Enjoying it, I wanted to smile. But all I can see is no one. I can only hear the ravaging sounds of people tearing in the air.
The burning of wood in the furnace was somehow painful. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. Please... Help me. Why do I hear gunshots... Why do I hear explosives?
As I blinked, I saw myself holding the weight of a rifle amidst a war. I was crying for a man I didn't know. I was screaming for a man I never loved. But he was hugging me, but all I saw was blood in my hands, was it my red warmth? Is it his red warmth? Who was he? Is he me? I pushed him, the warmth felt like my skin was being melted.
AHHHHHHH, I screamed, not because of the pain. But because I had no reason to scream. Was I the one screaming?
I turned to my left, and I saw a man burning in flames. I saw his body slowly melting, his body felt like a candle. It was warming, so I was supposed to help him. But I saw myself, being burned like a candle. He saw me being burned alive, but why didn't he help me?
Where was I again? To me, it felt like a betrayal. To me, it felt like a relief. To me, it felt like a sharp object. To me, it felt like being a hero. To me, I felt like a hero. To me, I felt like a hero piercing a fake hero.
As the knife went in, I saw a wooden chair. I walked towards it, red warmth soaking my hands but inside my stomach was hollow, like I was the one being stabbed.
Who are you? I felt the knife was inside me, and the blood dripped to the ceiling. The wooden planks rusted. My head began to spiral in my eyes. All I can see is the table in the form of a chair. I want to smash this table.
I sat in it.
A lady gave me tea, and I smelled it. The scent was floral, it was elegant, like the lady. I took a sip. It was delicious, it was sweet, it was delightful, it was lovable, if it was warm, it felt everything.
I woke up, and I was in the living room. And a familiar face glanced at me. It was Aleksandr. Why is he here? He said, "I wanted to help that person."He was in grief.
I said to him, "We humans are not excluded from the harsh trials of reality.".
He said to me. "We humans are not excluded from the harsh trial of reality.".
Who was I talking to? I'm the only one in this house. In this lonely house.
I looked at my right hand, and it was young. It was full of energy. I turned my head towards my left hand, it was pale, it was old.
Aleksandr, who are you really? The more I saw you, the more I began to realize that I was Aleksandr.
I stood with my two feet. I walked with my body. I ate bread in joy, in happiness, in light. I drank water in hatred, sadness, in the dark. I, too, believe that true happiness should only be witnessed once.
I made a coffee, it was pale, it was bitter. How would I know if it had a taste or not? But I felt like I experienced this many times. How should I begin to explain?
If I see myself, be myself, talking to myself. Would I be disgusted? I experienced life differently like all people. I wish to know more about Aleksandr. He is a good man. a man who experienced life like all people.
I finished my coffee, it was full. I didn't finish it. It tasted bitter. Should I drink it, or should I see myself fall to despair? Should I indulge my taste buds in this black coffee, or should I indulge myself beneath my own gravestone?
I drank the coffee. I stood up and walked towards the window, I saw two people, it was a couple. One young boy, one young girl. He grabbed the hand of his lady. I grabbed the hand of my lady. We walked towards the bakery. I looked at her, but there was no one.
Only myself in the house, thinking that I would be one of them, thinking that my house would be a bakery with just a scent of coffee.