This place called home.

It's a chapter. It's all i've written so far, so be patient with me.

          There’s a white wall beneath my feet and a cardboard lump of a mattress under my back. The ragged texture that cover these four placid walls provide the most stimulation I’ve had in the past three years. Sure, the cool , refreshment of the faux marble floor is stimulation enough. But three years without the touch of a hand, the caress of a gentle breeze, or even the feel of sand beneath my toes is enough to make this wall feel like heaven when my feet graze across it. Food is scarce here and is reduced to a gray lump I’ve still yet to decide what is and a gray broth that is just as cold as the cheap version of a rich man’s floor.  Lacking taste, smell, texture, or even warmth I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve lost at least two of my most primal senses. Taste and smell haven’t applied to me in so long I can no longer recall the scents I held close in my memory. I remember loving the smell of freshly cut grass but can no longer recall what it smelt like. I can recall loving the taste of the juices of a ripe red apple flowing onto my tongue, but can no longer recreate the taste in my mind’s eye. But maybe that is because I’ve found myself devoid of love. Perhaps it is love that holds those things so dear and why I can no longer finger them with my imagination. Love intact or lost I’ve found a freedom in silence. Some call it numb, or even a beginning stage of comatose. I call it adaptation. When a person’s surroundings are completely taken away does that person not learn to let go? To adapt as I have; to detach one’s self from all that was once held dear. Certain people call it insanity to be able to step out of my minds eye and look at life’s problems from an ‘outsider looking in’ standpoint. I call their ‘insanity’ fear. Humans fear the unknown, the things they cannot explain. Humans are jealous of what they cannot possess or achieve. They are jealous of those who have what they want and seek. Jealousy and fear are the reasons I am contained here.

Many nights have passed when people have confided their wants, hopes, and aspirations to me. All of human life is based upon and flawed by one thing: The human response to stimulation of the senses and their lack of control on what are known as their feelings.

Author's Note

comments are welcomed with loving, gay arms! (happy)

Reviews

[WayOath]

HA! The last line was so perved ;P. Ok, I like the way everything builds right on top of each line. Every line is a effect of the last, like a cause and effect thing. You have great imagery ma, you always have! My favorite part was when you described the smell and tastes she can't "recreate in her mind's eye" ;P. So far, I am thinking this character is in a mental institution or hospital of sorts. But so far, it's great. There are some punctuation problems but nothing major! Write more! If for no reason other than that pa wants you too!!!!