Are those clouds? Everything is blue. I'm feeling withdrawn. Who have I become?
My neck is sore. I'm leaning against something. It's rugged, rough, unfamiliar. What is this place? This is so unlike what I know, so vivid, so green, so fresh. Did I overdose? I remember only haziness and vagueness, time not working, and the exhaustion.
I jerk. Something touches my head. It is innocent, brief. I try to grab it but I grip too tightly. It breaks in my hand. I look up to understand. There is a static web of brown and green. Right. A tree.
I'm surrounded by so much space. The sun gently blinds me as I look left. This isn't the Vidalin. I am relaxed. My shoulders are down, my skin is soft. I am aware.
A short noise echoes from afar and I am made to hear how quiet it, everything, is. I can feel my heart. I am alive?
I shield my eyes from the sun. I see a figure walking away, towards a pond. I get up and follow. My gait is slow without stress. The grass is soft. It is grass, I know that. I have never been here before. The life I have lived has been in an open cage, the one we built ourselves, the one we so proudly shield ourselves behind.
I was made to be here, I think. This is where I belong.
The figure sits down by the water. I'm approaching, and they notice, but they do not turn around to look. I sit down.
“Hello,” you say.