A White Room

I was standing in the middle of a room three hundred feet up. I was eating something that was unfamiliar to me and I was thinking about moving on. I couldn't stop looking at the horizontal red strips that lined this white room. Bones.

All I could think about was bones and the way that these red and white layers reminded me of the inside of my body. The way that I imagine the inside of my body to be.

Sometimes I wonder about rooms and space. I think about the inside of my body as a space. As a place where cogs turn and tiny beings work. But that space of the inside of my body is something I don't know at all. I know the inside of my mouth. I know it because my tongue is constantly probing and exploring crevices, cracks, awkward nuances and the memories I associate with them. But what about the rest of my body?

Does that internal space mean anything at all to me? Do I really know anything about it?

It makes me think that perhaps this room is just like the inside of my body. Maybe this room is the inside of my body.

But then I stop thinking so much about the inside of my body and I think about the door. I walk towards the door. The only spot in this entire room that is void of those delightful red stripes.

Funny, though, there is no handle on this door. Only a knocker. An old knocker that looks like something I would have frivolously bought at a yard sale when I had more space, more money, and more hope for ornamentation.

I don't even waste my time thinking about knockers. I just knock as hard as I can. I'm still eating this unknown substance. Every now and then I swallow a little bit of it and I wonder what happens to it when it goes inside of me. I wonder how my mind works. I wonder if my mind digests in a secret space just like my stomach.

In a few minutes I hear something rustling on the other side of the door. I suspect it is a non-human animal. I suspect I want to eat it. But I'm already eating this other thing so I won't worry about that right now. I'll just kill it so I can start descending again.

When I was on my way up to this red striped room I had to kill a few things. Not family members or anything fucked up like that. Just a few small creatures that never knew how to love.

Sometimes I forget that the world I live in is magical. That it changes everyday. That there are countless monsters that live in it. That if I wanted to or needed to I could take the head off of them and stop imagining the insides of their bodies.

Then maybe I would finally feel connected to space again. If I could just clarify the existence of my body's internal world maybe I could regain my faith in the external world. Because these days everything blends in this terrible pool of my imagination. I've lost faith in these red striped walls. So I'm going to go eat all these little beings that won't open this god damn door. I use the knocker every day. They told me that they wouldn't let me out until I was ready to eat them alive. Maybe I just need to know the inside of my own body. Maybe I just want the internal world.

Because this external world feels so unreliable. Big mind feels like a good alternative.

But what about my blood? What about my guts?

Oh well.

I don't trust anything physical except my body.