I'm sick. I've been sick. It's almost like a hotel, but it isn't. It comes with a sense of guilt like the room you'd purchase for a mistress to fuck, There is a scent of shame, frugality, and loathing, however it is not so bad of a room, i tell myself, it was very cheap and she loves me despite it. I cannot, however, remeber how much the place costs, or even where I am. I must be drunk still, and this makes sense. I feel awful, hungover, sickly. Why do the curtains remind me of my specific color of phlegm? It makes me sick, i look down at the carpet hastily, and i can see the grains of brown and white rice mix and exchange, swirling grotesquely in front of me. I stare straight ahead.

'where am I?' I wrack my brain to remember. I feel haphazard, and a bit ironic, though I know not why.

A door leads from the grayish and weirdly, magenta coverings; they make me feel more sick. I am glad to leave them. A grainy corridor proceeds with slits for Windows along the walls, however they are so thick with frost they are only bright, but without transparency.

A small man is stood at the end of the ceremoiously long hallway, i see no eyes under the half hooded/half shadowed figure but i hear a buzzing sound that grows as I enclose upon him. He seems to become smaller the closer I draw, and soon I become aware that the closer I walk the further he moves away.

I soon realize these are mirrors lining the strange corridor and see myself through them, flying through stages of ugliness, i see myself as teenager, hating my peers, i see myself as a young adult, chasing, craving, and loathing other human contact. I watch my thirties and forties go by without love, without loss; and what became of everyone I knew. A turmoil that began within myself, somehow unafflicted now, and unknowing. At last I see a woman, old; she is beautiful, she is looking at a photo in which she is much younger, there is a man who looks somehow like myself, but as he is holding my beautiful, old, love without the carefulness I would ve touch her with. He looks at someone else in the photo. She is alone at last, i love her. It been an eternity, it's been her whole life, she's been waiting for me, she's been waiting for herself. she was too good for the world ahe was born to.

I am semi aware that i am dead, or undead, all i know is since my life on earth has changed, i have been watching this women. She died