Doctors Office Gray

I wrote this about 2.5 years ago. I think it speaks for itself. (It's very Chuck Palahniuk-esque)

Close your eyes. Imagine you're sitting in a room. A plain room, as big as - let's say a poor person's bathroom. In this room, you're sitting in a chair. A wooden one, the kind that creaks with sudden movement, that maybe your grandfather would have received as a wedding present. It's gray - the room. And not a stylish gray, either...more of that horrible drab that you see right next to a bright color in the doctor's office. There's no sound in the room, not even that annoying ring you get in your ears when it's too quiet. It's just plain silent. What do they always say? You can hear a pin drop? In this room you could hear an ant piss. It sort of swirls sometimes. Like cliche movies where you're the camera and you spin around the character. Not too fast, but every once in a while fast enough to make you nauseated. It smells...like church did after a sermon when you were a kid - sitting inside waiting for your parents to stop making it a social event so you can go the fuck home. It smells...boring. Stale. Dead, even. And the room in all it's mindless, gutless glory, is so overwhelming that you can't think. It can't even cross your mind to think. You just...sit. Your ass has been numb for a while now. but - you can't think of that, of course. Your arms are hanging straight down at your sides, your eyes straight forward, blinking occasionally. Does this sound horrible yet? Because, it is. It's numb.

So! You're sitting and it's creaking, and smelling. And small. And silent. And gray...it's alone. You are alone. No windows, no smiles, just ant piss. Now you're at the park. You're at a baseball game. A movie theater. A wedding. A funeral. But this whole picture, this whole...pathetic scene that is painted in your mind -- it's ME. It's my insides. And every so often I jump out of the chair and I run - no, I sprint at the wall and with open palms I beat the walls until they're raw and bloody and I scream. At the top of my lungs I just...scream. And it's beautiful because when I sit back down, even though it has gotten me nowhere and I feel more lost than ever, there is the most gorgeous color of crimson that stains the wall. And I know, if just for that one second - that I DO bleed. And, that means I'm still alive. And some day when I've pounded hard enough over and over and over again i'll break that wall. And when I do I will cry at weddings and laugh at funerals, I'll squash ants and I'll yell at the characters who run upstairs when they're being chased, as if it's going to solve something. And maybe I'll do it all at once. Squash and yell and laugh and bleed and cry my way into an existence that is ANYTHING but doctor's office gray.