I am stupid.
I am sick.
I am scum.
This is what I was called. These are what I am. I am nothing but what they call me. I am nothing without them. They are my world. My everything.
Nothing but them. Nothing but these four walls. Nothing but that door. Nothing but my thoughts. My head. Head. Head against the wall. Against the floor. Against the door. The door. The hole. Hole in door opens and the claw comes.
A grain of rice they call it. I can survive on one. Single. Grain. I am confused. There is not a thing called time here. Why do they come now? WHY?! Why…?
I'm so alone in this place. This place that I have never seen the outside. What is outside? What do they call nature? What is light? What is sunshine? I have never seen it...
I wish I could speak. What is speaking? Is it nice? What is speech? Nothing but my thoughts. My HEad.
The grain, it takes, the grain, it feeds, the grain, poisons. My throat. My Fire. My fire is in my throat. My stomach. It tears through my veins, feeding, leeching of my life force, my blood.
I see. I finally understand that I AM worthless, the scum on the floor, the vile on the walls, the stupidity of my own thoughts, and I only now come to realise in my time of terror, why do I even think in the first place?