this beautiful world of yours and mine

sixth - a reason

2009-01-02T04:36:56Z

...........

There really is something... someone...

She was... amidst all that I see now, probably the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life. Ever. A porcelain white face, with oval shaped eyes and a sharp petite nose... things that I thought I'd never see again. A perfect human face, and of a nymphish girl at that.

It was... relieving.

Had to have been about 3 AM when it happened... but what would a girl her age have been doing visiting a hospital at that time of night? Why was I even in the hospital to begin with? Had something happened? More importantly, was she the ghost of a deceased patient?

...No. I remember a human warmth, those soft and tender fingers... I could actually feel those. She was no ghost and was actually right there.

And I remember realizing it was at that moment in time that she delivered my fate from any last notions of suicide.

"Saya"...

For the knowledge that, somewhere, there exists someone like that... maybe I can put up with this, even if it has to be for the rest of my life.

((OOC: 2% memory spent on his first meeting with Saya in the hospital post-brain-surgery. 2% total.))

fifth - same changes

2008-12-19T04:02:27Z

...Something's different.

Instead of everything around me when I go (somewhere that is presumably) outside being building-shaped structures covered in unpleasantries, they are now castle-shapes structures covered in unpleasantries.

Is this... typical of this place?

fourth

2008-11-28T00:36:08Z

...Turkeys, huh?

They sure as hell don't look like turkeys to me. Then again, I think that was to be expected by now.

Still, when you have multiple large, indescribable turkey-sized things running around in front of you without discretion, it tends to be just a little unsettling, no matter how many times you look at it.

...Maybe I should look into some form of protection. As long as it could kill things or scare them away, I think I'd feel a bit better about all this.

third

2008-11-20T23:59:39Z

...At least I can still discern hot from cold, I suppose.

But then again, it's a strange, indescribable cold, the weather outside. The sort of cold that, by closest comparison, might come from immersing yourself entirely in numbingly cold water. Every movement of air, however weak, I can still feel so sharp and acute against me. Every brush of wind is pungent, almost painful.

...This way of experiencing everything, besides being disturbing as hell, I find on a daily basis tends to be extremely inconvenient. I have yet to find anything it's truly good for, other than possibly being sometimes able to convince myself that this is truly an alien planet and I'm not really hallucinating every minute of every hour of every day.

But then I remember that pretending is useless, and in either situation, I'm still the abnormal black sheep.

So... brain damage.

It's the only explanation, and yet the cleric said she found nothing immediately wrong with me. No abnormalities that would have been immediately detected even with such magical abilities.

So no one can identify it, then, if a healer can't. In that case, strictly speaking, it's all in my gut feeling.

But I know what I'm seeing. I have to live with it every waking moment and then some. If it's purely my imagination, then my imagination has sure gone to some great lengths to make it seem so real.

second - difficulties

2008-11-08T02:07:32Z

...Daily necessities are damn near impossible like this.

Food... it's a necessary evil for me. I know I need it to live, but I can hardly stand any of what's given here. It simply doesn't look like food at all to me. I might as well be eating salted and peppered cardboard or other sorts of garbage. None of it appeals to me, even though everyone claims it's just perfectly normal, edible food. I avoid it when I can, but if I want to stay alive ~~which I'm beginning to think isn't such a great option~~, it has to be forced down.

Sleep is no different; with the constant, shrill screeching coming from all sides at all times, and the extra load from the rest of my senses coming in strong as well, it's practically impossible to try.

...They say sleep torture is the worst form of torture. The point of it wouldn't be to deny sleep entirely, but to keep the victim out of the deeper stages of sleep, thus completely ruining their sleep experience. With your senses constantly poisoning you while you try, it's really not much different from something like that.

And it could drive one insane real quick.

...So then, healers. Is there such thing as an examination with such an odd profession, or would it be necessary to seek out an actual doctor for something like that?

first - schizophrenic nightmare

2008-11-02T19:57:00Z

...The many lumps of flesh that rock back and forth in front of me, amongst the symphony of soprano screams, tenor cries and god knows what else... this isn't what I remember.

To be truthful, I don't remember anything. Nothing but rudimentary knowledge. And the knowledge I do have tells me this isn't normal.

Any familiar human facial features have been morphed into chunks of loafs. Are they even human? They're all tumbling about and giving off acidic smells which I have to try my best to ignore. The only thing that comforts me here is that I can logically believe I was abducted by aliens and spirited away to another planet. It would make sense.

This world's a stranger to me now. There's nowhere I can turn to here. Everywhere I look, a scene of horror; chunks of blood and meat strewn about, unfamiliar colors of corroded brown and dirtied red. The walls, the floor, the ceiling. Even the sky has lost its color, tie-dyed instead in softer shades of gray and red. It's less searing to my eyes to look at, but I can't look up to this unfamiliar sky forever.

If I were to tell anyone about this back home -- wherever "home" is -- I'd be thrown in a hospital. No, not just any hospital, a mental asylum where I'd be locked away in some corner of the highly secure building, in order to be forgotten about.

Better this than that, I suppose.

Everywhere I walk. It seems every sense of mine has been overwhelmed by unfamiliarity. At one moment I hear deafening silence, the next I hear a choir of shrill, piercing screams all coming in at different times, from different places. The air smells like sour, acerbic ammonia and blood, an indescribable reek. The squash of soft flesh beneath my feet, and the slippery, viscous drip that dribbles down the walls of buildings and everything else. I can't quite speak for taste yet, but judging from what I see, I doubt any food I come into contact with will be much better in the midst of this nightmare.

No matter how things look, they are probably the normal whereas I must be the abnormal.

...I'm not insane. Not in the least.