There is Nothing
I sit cross-legged in the big empty room.There are no windows. No doors. No escape.
I wear nothing. There is no tempature, there is no time.
There is no hunger. I have tried to mark off how many days I have been here waiting. I can't though, because there is no night and there is no day. There are no sounds. No smells. I can only speak to myself. I have stopped speaking, there isn't anyone to speak to.
Sometimes I just stop thinking because, really, there isn't anything to think about.
I don't know how I got here, I don't remember anything other than here. All I know is, there is nothing
because this is where cutters go.
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