Work Text:
You are no one.
You don't even know what your own name is. If you even have a name.
You tried to think of any name.
Or even a nickname.
You don't want to be nameless.
But nothing comes to mind.
You don't know if it's negative to not be able to think of a name.
It's not normal, is it?
You don't know why the room you wake up in has a machine in the balcony. Why seeing that machine made your body rage and feel so much sadness.
You don't know why you want to get out of this room. That you have to lock the door and never come back to it. Do not even think about it.
The room you rest in is just beside. It will be difficult to rest in there if you want to ignore the room you came out of.
You gather anything you might need and go downstairs. You know there's a sofa where you can sleep on.
You place a pillow and a blanket on the sofa. It's your bed from now on. Only you will sleep on it.
You lie in it. Staring at the ceiling as you think.
It's getting boring.
You turn your head and look at the closed door. The door that leads to outside.
You don't know why going out makes you feel nervous. That there is danger when you step outside of this place.
This place doesn't even feel like home anymore.
The part that makes this place feel like home is gone.
So you will find home.
Eventually, you gather the courage to go outside.
If it isn't for rainy days, you would have been content living outside. Running freely, climbing trees, growing flowers.
You don't try to venture into the city. You couldn't. You tried a few times and woke up on the sofa without fail. Something tells you that the city is far too dangerous, worse than upstairs.
So you never try to go to the city. You would only think about it. Besides, you're content being here. It's safe. It is safe. There is nothing to be afraid of.
Most of your questions will not be answered. There is no need to find out lest it brings more suffering. You don't want to suffer.
But one thing is for certain.
You are no one.