A translucent film was slipping like a cloud over her vision, making everything seem as if it was underwater. Her perception was joyous to the change. She looked at her hand and they seemed almost cartoonish. Rounder, and smoother. Less flawed and less real. She giggled on the mattress. And scratched at the bed bugs.
She was forgetting where she was. The walls were blank and bare, their color and texture was oppressive. She needed to pee. She needed to find a bathroom. She needed to find the door out of the room. She needed to stand up. She needed to make sure that she was wearing clothes, because she didn't know who or what was on the other side of the door. The door that needed to be found. She needed to find pants at the very least. There were no pants. She needed to find a sheet. There was no sheet, other then the kind with elastic on the corners. It smelt bad. She wore it anyways. She needed to find the door. She found a closet. She found the door. The air was different. She stepped out of the room.
It was a hallway. To her left was a full wall mirror. It showed her. In her sheet. She looked at her face and it started to mold and become different. It was fascinating. Her cheeks were becoming dark black holes, and yet for some reason they weren't sucking in her eyes. Her skin was raising and shifting, as if the texture of her matter had become fluid, and something was throwing tiny sand pebbles into her one at a time. It grew more and more uncomfortable when she realized she couldn't control it. It wasn't enjoyable. She needed to turn away. She turned away. She was in a hallway.
There was carpet now, on her bare feet, and it wasn't nice. It had long fibers that should have felt warm and comforting, but instead they were hard and brittle. They stabbed at her feet. When she looked at it, it was rushing like a wave, telling her to get out. Telling her she needed to be away. She walked into the bathroom. It was a door. It was a door to the left, she knew that. That's how she was able to find it without thinking. She caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror and turned off the light. She peed in the dark.
In the dark, shapes came out of sound. The sound of her breath. The sound of her passing water. The echos her noises created from the walls. The walls were responding to her. They were rejecting her. All of her, they didn't want to it. They didn't want to absorb her. She couldn't blame them. She was a weird monkey. They were walls. They didn't have too much in common. She giggled at her thought, and her eyes adjusted to see her hands. She like her hands, they were closer and further away than they had ever been before.
She loved the darkness. As long as she could see her hands.