Club 24

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic

I dedicate this to everyone who is lonely. We will live the pain and sorrow in this story, and the good will remain to fill your life.

CHAPTER 1
WHITE

I always feel tension looking at a white, blank sheet or canvas, it always seems to me as if I have no right to make a mistake, I have no right to spoil the canvas, but I force myself to make mistakes. After, I try to hide my mistakes away, in the farthest drawer of the table, which I do not open so that I will never see them again and wait for the next moment, thinking that it will work out perfectly.

But, ideally is not always interesting. Therefore, on the other hand, it suits me that I am a loser. I always have it all messed up, so I think. Others think quite differently, but they never burned their work in a big fire late at night. They have never felt this moment of momentary freedom, when everything that you have created is on fire. Not ecstasy, peace for one tenth of a second.

You suddenly become not as interesting to everyone as at 17, although at 17 you were not interesting to yourself, . And now you are over 20, in the morning you look into a glass of coffee and think "delicious, but then what?"

-Take me some sweet! - my friend called me. Looking at her, I wonder every time why she still communicates with me. We have known each other for many years and she has always admired me: she is smart, hardworking, she is not afraid of difficulties, and I, well, I, in turn, joke funny and I can listen, but I am afraid of everything in the world:  glances, failures, I would not have coped and with half of her daily tasks. I took coffee and we talked for a long time. It was warm and sunny, I was blinded by this white color of the cups and tables, I tried to listen carefully, but I understood that even though we looked like adults, in fact, there was an adult at the table and a person who seemed to be an adult. This semblance of closeness makes me more and more painful over the years. Will it ever kill me?

Learning is a spiral labyrinth. A huge spiral with no corridors and no free space. These are endless audiences where the exit from one is the entrance to another. At the end there is an exit, but there are solid walls around, and you yourself do not really remember that there, outside the walls, it takes time. Happy are those who took the matter with heart. What if you're in the wrong place? On the scale of sensations, this is an empty, cold ultrasound that deafens you. White flash, self-loathing. So cold. Black is the absence of color, and White is the endless, frosty emptiness inside.


Submitted: May 10, 2021

© Copyright 2021 rinmay4. All rights reserved.

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