Ciaran: The Standard

I think, as mad as it sounds, that I've actually found someone that understands me. And not in the "I'm going to pretend to understand him in case something bad happens" way. But more, the "You're not as bad as I thought, you make sense" way. As I grinned back at Ezmerelda, she suddenly got up and walked away, muttering about fairies. A bit rude, but no-one can blame her. Well, I can, but I won't.

People began to leave the den to go to their rooms, so I thought I might as well do the same. I started to climb the steep staircase, and eventually made it to my floor. I wandered through the open door into my room. They don't trust us with locks. Ridiculous, isn't it? Even if some of us are a tad bit mad, we should at least be entitled to some privacy. Well, at least they let us decorate the room slightly.

Mine had a black floor and ceiling, with three hunter-green walls. The last wall had been painted to look like I was in the middle of a forest. I like forests. They're the only place where you can find the most versatile creatures from almost every time in history. They're also very calm and peaceful. Above my bed I have a cork-board with photos of my Aunt and my friends, and a piece of A3 paper. As always, I kneel up on my bed and mark off another day on the paper. Only 5 more days until the anniversary of my stay at Pathways. I wonder if we'll celebrate. Probably not, as it's not exactly a happy thing. But celebrations aren't always happy. At a funeral you're celebrating someone's seemingly incredible life, now that they don't have it anymore. 

I walk into the bathroom and brush my teeth, before climbing into bed. I think for a while, as per usual, and drift off into a deep sleep. My last thought was, 'I do the same thing almost every day. I wonder if I'll ever get out, or if I'll just die in here. Everything is always just standard. Never anything unusual.'

 

The End

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