Time seems to be passing at its own rate these days. I say "days," but I can't really tell. There are no windows in here, no clocks, I'm not wearing a watch. I seem to keep nodding off and waking up again, not sure whether I've dozed off for a few minutes or entire weeks. Every time I come to, I find myself sitting here, as always. It almost feels like I've always been here, like I've never left.
That said, it suddenly dawns on me that I haven't actually tried to leave. Haven't wanted to, haven't had the energy to, haven't even thought about it until now. I'm starting to wonder, just now, if it's possible that I'm here by choice--perhaps I've done something to myself on purpose ... maybe this is some kind of experiment, or an attempt to learn something about myself, or to undo something done to me by someone, even ...
Knowing who I am might be a nice start.