The walls of my world are closing in. All I hear is the steady droning of the airconditioning unit in this conference room that I've made into my dwelling place. Sometimes, the rattling sounds of the LRT or the occasional screech of a car horn or the loud laughter of street urchins break the monotonous silence. What goes on outside, I do not know.
Sometimes it's hard to imagine that I was ever part of that world outside. Do I even exist, or is everything a mere illusion? Do I even matter? How do I cross the emptiness that separates me from what is real and what is not? Do I exist? Do I matter? What is the proof that I live? What is the proof that I matter?
Do all these questions even matter?
This was a choice I made. This is a choice I'm sticking to. What goes on in the world outside, I do not know. I'm trapped. I'm ensnared by my own prison, an there is no one and nothing else to blame, but me.
I hear my heart. I breathe. I exist. But do I live?
I do not know. And all I know is this - not knowing does not really matter at all.
The view from the CVS Conference Room window
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