Daisies

I sit motionless with my bare back leaning up against the wall, staring across the room at the window. I have never wondered what lies behind that window. But now I am wondering. Everything is quiet. Still. Peaceful. And it's driving me insane.

I have gone so long without change. Maybe I need to be brave and go searching for some myself. That window is my only option.

But I am afraid. Fear is very controlling. I want to control myself. But fear has always controlled me, to the point where I begin to think that maybe the fear is a part of myself. Of course fear is a part of me. But it has somehow gone too far. If only I could remember why.

I continue to stare at the window. It's up pretty high, so that I can't see beyond it when sitting down. I'd have to climb on something to reach it.

But the window is beautiful. It has elegant designs and patterns carved into the white tile surrounding it, and it is not plain. Everything else in this world is plain besides that window. Including me. Including the daisies. Maybe if I discover the window, I will be able to become beautiful, just like it.

I begin to stand up, but something holds me down.

The whispers. They grow louder, but then softer again when I lay myself back on the white floor. The cold tile rubs unpleasantly against my skin and I curl up in a tight ball, hoping that the whispers will leave me alone.

Maybe looking out that window isn't such a good idea.

Curiosity is a dangerous thing.