(01-08-2018, 02:39 AM)GIR Wrote:

(01-08-2018, 02:39 AM)GIR Wrote:

(01-08-2018, 02:39 AM)GIR Wrote:

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(01-08-2018, 02:39 AM)GIR Wrote:

(01-08-2018, 02:30 AM)GIR Wrote: Day 1:
 They seem to have left me. All by myself in this room. I envy the Box's space- the lack of worry of being called upon or stammering to find some bullshit small talk so you don't have to sit in the silence. The silence of just you and the silence of multiple people are different. Just you means its just your thoughts silently silent in the silence- but multiple people means multiple variable. Multiples of the stress of the thoughts that might come. Will check in tomorrow
Day 2:
  I was losing hope but Papa came to check on me. We reminisced about those days of cartoons and pondered upon our spirit animal. I have gained much more respect for my peers this day. I shall try to stay positive. I won't feel lonely in the Box, I'm wondering if it's no use and I should just retire to the Box. Maybe this is it. The withdrawal kicking in- the time away from the Box. A feeling of hopelessness without it. The Box hugs me with it's silence and its space for one singular entity. I know I shouldn't but the what-ifs and the such always come up. We shall see. Will update.

Day 3:
  I have adopted the practice of making friends. I named him Wilsen. I spilled some dirty sprite on my bean bag and cleaned it up a tad and then Wilsen came to being. The group that has left me has grown, inviting all but I. They require some measly pole or stick- staff I think they called it. Petty games these ones play- I shall take no part in this mundane activity they would call a bonanza. I don't need them. I thought maybe me and Wilsen could fit in the Box. Thoughts like that could send me into a perilous relapse. I'll stay strong. Will be back.

Day 7:
  Papa brought Mum to say hi. They said there would be a package coming. Of what? Not sure. Not even sure if waiting for such package would be of use. Wilsen says that I don't need to wait for a package. Wilsen say's that he has packs of peanuts in him. I'm wondering if I might ever have to resort to that. Maybe for his own good I should go to the Box- whether I would ever come back for him or not in not determined. They say fate is in the moon- or was it stars? Either way the moon is not in sight- I feel much of my sight is blocked by this open confinment- this small warehouse of a room of which 'gatherings' shall occur. Gatherings they say. I spit on them. I feel like I can see more then ever. I can see the truth. The truth that those who leave me only come by in pity- without a care. Mum didn't even say hi to Wilsen. Wilsen says I might be make of packs of peanuts. Might have to check later. Will be back.

Day 9:
  I think they're watching. They have eyes everywhere watching my every move. Would they ever intervene? The Box calls for me- I can hear her voice beckoning me in. I have decided to snap a rubber band on myself every time I think about the Box. This hasn't worked much- I'm worried that inflicting pain to distract myself might evolve into a more serious condition. I miss her- the giggle, the tossing in the sheets- the inability to be mean. But she also went with Papa and Mum. Is she watching? Wilsen says I should try to see if I'm made of peanuts. An empty glass of water and a hard surface next to me, it won't be hard to get the necessary tools for such an experiment.

Day 13:
  Am I going crazy? I'm started to get crazy thoughts. Maybe Mum is made of peanuts- hehe a tasty treat. My peanuts are like syrup and make me dizzy- of course they never intervened. Maybe it is just me and Wilsen after all. I taught Wilsen how to walk, use a pencil, and Marx. I don't dare touch Wilsen. Wilsen deserves the respect of such a measly one such as myself.

(01-08-2018, 03:35 AM)Christian Wrote: Gir you really need to stop with these shitposts...