Floating, in the array of doors, standing still in front of me. The doors were scattered asunder. I was weightless. The atmosphere felt empty as I skimmed through the surroundings.
creak. BANG! creak. BANG! creak…
The doors were flinging open and shut simultaneously around me, my attention could not span as the cacophony grew rampant, I could not focus anymore. My head was split into many pieces, I could not comprehend what was happening.
Opening, closing, opening, closing, the doors were unfettered. I was teleported in front of a door that was left ajar. Curiousity led my hand to prying open the door that was left unshut. A paroxysm of regret overwhelmed me as I got sucked into the void of the opened door, leaving me satiated with nothingness, wearying me from pulling myself back together.
Flashy images lazed around my mind, I was caught up in the delirious ecstasy that I did not want to get out from. It was comforting. I wanted to dwell there, staring into the flat nothingness that spiraled me out of reality so conveniently. Choosing the easy way out of my life seemed the best to kill time, to waste myself.
Pulling, tussling against my will, I could barely muster an ounce of energy to even move a muscle. It was premeditated, I was destined to stay here, for the rest of my life, soullessly watching as my life ticked away at my back without me realising, within my conscience.
I had had enough of this, nothingness.
The door slammed shut. I came to my sense. Hesitant for a second, fleeing the scene in the next. Learning, falling, discovering myself anew. There were many more doors opened for me.
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What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami (Book Review)