Twenty-four hours to start. Fifteen and a half down. Way too much to go. First report clear... second report... extension by two hours, with more to come. They never gave rules... not complete ones. They'd give rules in prisons...
This thing is impossible! I sat by the water for ages... shins, feet, legs dangling in it's gentle current. Tiny ripples collided with this slick black skin, droplets splashed up on me... on it, I could have sworn beneath the waving liquid I even saw creatures... inspecting the foreign intrusion... and maybe it was all mental but I couldn't feel a thing. This isn't my skin. I don't belong here. This doesn't suit me. I'm a busy person... always occupied in some way... with others... alone. Can't speak, can't shop, can't explore as I awish, can't observe, can't . . . create. That kills me. It seems with the lack of ability to create, I am suddenly flooded with ideas of things to create! I can only beg my mind to fight this... and maybe remember all my ideas for when I am free. They call this free... disgusting.
I ran today... as fast as I could... as far as I could.... as hard as I could. Feet pounding against earth; grass, rock, dirt... and I did it with a passion. The helmet doesn't know passion, not even simple passion... running. It punished me for it! For running! For being alone, bothering no one, saying nothing, staying away from everything but nature... and running! It yelled! Told me I can't act aggressively! Passion and aggression... sure a fine line a stupid machine can't comprehend. When I'm out of here, when this . . . thing, is out of my skull, I want to smash it. I want to show it aggression! This is supposed to calm me... teach me to be a peaceful being? How can something without a feeling wire in it's workings teach someone peace? It's wicked.
Not her though. She's been a blessing... each and every sight of her is a thin glimpse at familiarity... at life. Makes one appriciate the little things...
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