It Will Be A Long Time
By Earvin Eugene
Copyright © 2021 by Earvin P Eugene
All rights reserved.
There was a boy that contemplated life. He was lost in his own mind. A beautiful disaster. He was happiest in his room. He did everything in his room. Ate in his room. Sex in his room. Sleep in his room. Watch movies in his room. Read in his room. Write in his room. Everything outside his room was lost in translation. A white wall four by four side enclosure. The only way in and out was a white door. It was a quaint room. Many bedrooms like it. It's a small world after all. The only difference was the posters and the people who entered. Posters of maps of popular visited cities. Posters of favorited musicians. Images of inspirational athletes. A calendar that could be better utilized. A dart game to compete with visitors. A scientific poster. That was enough to capture personality. The necessity of a smart television for entertainment. It was connected to an XBOX. A cabinet filled with drawers of sentimental values, electronics, and vices. On top of it a small collection of idolized books, a high school class photo, religious paraphernalia, and whatever times that cluttered there. Like water bottles and beer cans. There were healthy items like Advil, laxatives, etc. Used cautiously. A mini fridge to store his essential drinks. Most of the time empty from constant use. He had central air, a fan, and an air purifier all of them that made too much noise in a small and cluttered room. There was a desk where most of the magic happened. A glass clear desk that was always a mess from papers and received mail. It was an attempt to be neat with containers of pens, pencils, and office supplies. The desk main purpose was to hold his laptops of stored secrets and writing. Many nights staring at that dark electronic screen that turned bright with limitless opportunities. A black mirror.
The room was split in half by the mirror closet reflecting the bed. Guests liked this feature. The closet was full of clothes, prized possessions, and memorabilia. The Queen sized bed was positioned to look at oneself through the mirror, up at the artificial celestial night sky or at the television. It was difficult to keep the bed well kept as you did everything on the bed. Was it pointless to fix it three or maybe four times a day or once but never be comfortable enough to make it your own.
Struck with disease from the outside world, depression, and disoriented thoughts the room could be either an escape or confinement. The area was gray. It ranged from a place of pleasure or an imprisonment of loathing. As any person it was a battle.
Many people entered and exited the room. Parents, siblings, girlfriends, ex-girlfriends, friends, strangers, police, healthcare workers, all walks of live; some warranted and others not so much. Some with the rightful host's welcome and at other times without supervision. It's a weird thought as to the visitors of your room past a decade.
As depression lingered at one time, the young man posted, "I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead!" The room went dark. Then, the entire house went silent and dark. He locked himself in the room and there was banging on the door for entrance!