Company
By: Gabriel Fulmer   

    I'm never truly alone, I guess.  I have my thoughts to entertain me, and I have the things around me to keep me company.  But it's not the same.  Talking to yourself doesn't work anymore, because I can never give myself an answer that's any different than I myself would give.
    When you're amongst company, though, you take it for granted.  How many times are you with a group of people and just sit back and appreciate the people around you?  I daresay it isn't very often.  You laugh, you cry, and you shoot the shit, but very rarely do you think of how lucky you are to have someone to talk to.
    Don't worry, though.  You're not the only one.  I myself was just like you at one point.  At one point.  That was before the shit hit the fan.  I'll never take company for granted again.  Hell, I don't even know if I'll have company again.
    It's dark here in this box.  I call it a box, because it is little more than a box.  I have its dimensions memorized.  It's four paces wide and five and three-quarters paces long, and one and a half mes high.  I have a little hole in the corner where I can go to the bathroom, and I have a thin matress that acts as my bed.  This place has been my home for a few months now. 
    When you're in a box, the simple things in life seem much more important.  Take sunlight, for example.  How many times do you think, "I'm glad there's a sun"?  Or wind?  Or grass?  These are the things I miss most.  And people.  As much as they bothered me when I saw them, looking back, they weren't that bad.  Yes, I definitely miss people.
    I get to eat three times a day, which was more than I ever ate out there.  It's also the only light I ever get.  That little slit slides open for a split second, then closes.  Bread and water may not be the greatest feast there is.  Hell, I've grown quite tired of it in here.  But food is food and water water.  Some people don't even have that.  I remember hearing all the time of people starving to death.  That's something I don't have to worry about.
    Ah, the light.  It's only open for a split second, but it's blinding.  When you're in the dark for so long, you can see some things.  At least I think you can.  I see things.  I know the walls are concrete brick, and that the floor is gray cement.  But maybe it's because it seems like all cement is gray?  At least I think I can see. 
    I used to think it was cold in here, but like everything else in here, you get used to it.  I used to curl up in a tiny ball and rub against the cold floor, trying to coax some warmth out of it.  But in the end it just made me colder.  But still, eventually I got used to it.
    I remember when I was a teenager I wanted facial hair so badly.  I would try in vain to grow a beard, but there were always patches that never quite grew in completely.  Now that I have one, though, I realize it's not all that great.  It itches.  My whole body itches, though.  It's not like I can take regular showers here.  I haven't had a shower since I came in here.  But I don't smell it anymore.  I've grown used to it. 
    You have a lot of time to think in here.  You have all the time in the world, which is one of the few blessings.  I sit with my legs crossed on the cement floor, and I think.  It's one of the times in here where I can be somewhere else.  I lay down in the wet grass and look up at the clouds.  I hear the birds and the wind in the trees.  It's beautiful.  But when my eyes open again, I realize that I wasn't really laying down in the grass, but sitting on hard stone.  Hard stone is a poor substitute for grass.  And for leaves I have concrete brick.  And for trees I have walls.  And for wind, I have nothing.
    I know I'm not insane.  Well, at least I think I'm not insane.  I don't have anyone inside my head talking to me.  I talk to myself sometimes, but that's just to hear something other than rats and dripping water.  Perhaps the fact that I'm not insane is what is making me go crazy. But not crazy in the traditional sense.  It's more of a crazy where I know I'm not but wish I was.  Isn't wishing you were crazy one of the craziest things in the world?  If I were crazy, I could talk to myself and get an answer different than I would normally give.  The only voice I've heard since I've been in here is my own.  It's not a bad voice, but it gets old after awhile.  Everything in here gets old after awhile.  I'll get old in here after awhile, too.  I might die in here.  That's a depressing thought.  Almost all of my thoughts have been depressing since I've been in here, though.  When you're all alone, what other thoughts can you think of? 
    I won't lie to you, I've thought of killing myself while I've been in here.  I would find a sharp slab of concrete laying on the ground and tear away at my wrists, hoping to end the misery, but I could never force myself to cut deep enough.  And blood stinks.  The rats like the smell of blood.  They'll come at you in your sleep and bite you, trying to taste more.  Yeah, I tried to kill myself a few times.  It seemed like an easy way out of a hopeless situation.  I used to have hope.  I used to hope that someone was going to open the door and guide me out, telling me it has all been a giant misunderstanding.  Or that I could tunnel my way out, but after clawing at the wall for hours, I realized a long time ago that all it would do is cause me pain.  And with so many negatives in here, I don't really need to add anymore. 
    I used to think that the rats might be able to be tamed.  I would sit beside the little crack in the wall where they would run through and wait for one of them, but I never caught one.  I could really use a pet in a place like this.  That's another thing I miss.  I miss pets.  I never had a pet myself, but other people had them, and they seemed to enjoy their company, and now I can understand why they enjoyed it so much. 
    I guess that's all it really comes back to, though.  Company.  I would love to hear someone other than myself say "hi" to me, and tell me that it's a beautiful day outside.  I want to hear someone else's voice.  I want to hear something, anything.  I just want to hear anything.
   
 
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SSGT Dragoon
JESTER SQUAD BABY!!!!!!!!!!
(He's the Sexy One )