Mimicker from the Prison

The complication that is involved regarding why I am where I am is far too great for me to try and explain but, to simplify things, it’s important to know that I am ‘stuck’. I use the term ‘stuck’ lightly as I am able to stretch my arms outside the barrier I’m held in. Unfortunately, in order for me to be fully free from this blank prison I’d have to grab hold of some sort of anchor point residing in the outside world. When I grab hold of it I’d have drag myself out, so the anchor point would have to be of sufficient weight. And when I do drag myself out, the anchor point would take my place as a prisoner of this cell. It’s also vital that no one see my hand being outstretched for that would cause absolute torment to head my way.

Why am I here? To cut it short, I am locked away in this cramped cell because I was a bit of a violent piece of trash. I murdered innocent women and children. I severely beat up the elderly just to hear their bones snap. The sound of that ‘snap’ is more euphoric than any worldly drug that scientists could ever compose. At one point, I decided to rape several religious virgin girls, simply because they would be detested by their community for having had sexual relations. I raped their bodies after they had hung themselves. These cases are a few things that placed me in here. There’s quite a lot more but I think you get the point.

Here’s the special thing about this prison; I’m the only one in it. It gets quite lonely in here so sometimes I talk to myself. This used to be therapeutic but I got over it really quickly. Now I just talk because I need to open my mouth. I will go mad if I don’t hear myself say something. I usually reach out onto the other side and grab some personal hygienic equipment with me such as comb, a toothbrush and toothpaste, mouthwash, a towel, deodorant, etc. Using these products makes me feel like I’m a whole new man again. It’s not usually after two minutes that I come to ground level and remember that I’m trapped here.

Sometimes I cry about some of the things I’ve done in my life. While crying, I like to think about what life would’ve been like if I hadn’t made such poor decisions. I had dreams and goals. Before I became a psychopath I had a friend that I always thought was pretty good looking. But this person was a lot smarter than me so I figured I had no chance. But after I cry I always snap back to being the devil that I am. There is no escaping this cycle. I am doomed to repeat this, again and again.

That is, unless I can get out of here.

Nowadays, I don’t really have a particular appearance. I just copy what I see in the outside world, just to get a glimmer of hope that one day I may get out of here. Quite a lot of the time I’d see someone walk by. I’d make myself look like them and I’d do what they’d do. It’s a pretty neat trick, you see. And it is because people don’t know that I’m actually there that I’m able to know a lot about them. In the past people have looked straight at me and cried their poor hearts out, blind to the knowledge that I listen on intently. I know the weaknesses of these people and thirst for the day in which I use it to my advantage. This thought is what keeps me going. This is the source of my will and my strength.

But wait, in all of my rambling I forgot to ask; would you like to know where I am?

A clue?

This morning I tried to reach out and grab you.

I’ll probably try again tomorrow.