Labyrinth

by Shawnong

There is no way out. There is a thick layer of nothingness concealing me from the outside, however my sense of direction is warped, I feel like the world is flipped inside out. My soul is exposed while my appearances are hidden in this structure. What am I doing here? I do not have the answer to question. I do not even know what questions I have.

The air is heavy and cumbersome, like an elaborate velvet curtain. I feel the weight of the atmosphere pressing down on my lungs, now that my organs are exposed. My consciousness is concentrated densely into a dot,  embedded in the very centre of me. The light emanating from it contrasts glaringly with the perpetual darkness around. I can hear the silence, I can see the darkness, although I am looking through orifices rather than eyes. This place has no form or shape. No specific structure. It isn’t circular, or rectangular. It is space, or maybe just the lack of it. I cannot ascertain.

I look at myself, cleft from any emotions, trying to fall deeper into the layers of me, as if I could possibly be the exit.

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