Tanked

Sitting in silence, I close my eyes and find myself in an all-white space, a space with no walls. I can feel myself sitting on an uncomfortable, most-likely wooden chair. My eyeballs move, but my head sure does not. It feels as if someone is making me keep face-forward, as if I were about to be presented something important, perhaps even life-changing.  I sit there, and begin to ponder if the bond between the silence and I is getting stronger. The silence must be, because it is evoking me to write unsorted words.

Kaysie?” a voice echoes. “Are you there?”

I blink inside of my minds glass bubble, questioning where the loud knocking was coming from.

I am afraid that I am not. I am elsewhere, unsure of what is taking place. Is it pushing me aside, or am I allowing it to?

Whatever “it” may be, is exactly the point.

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