When I try to remember the place all I can see is a montage of my hands moving in a constricted fashion, following lines and rules, uninspiringly cloning what's in front of me into barred pieces of paper without thought.

My mind, on the other hand, wasn't limited by anything, it freely moved in a seemingly endless world with infinite potential and variation, in a way symbolizing the childish feeling of invincibility: I could be whatever I want.

As I grew older and wasted more time in the institute, that wonderful place got smaller and smaller, until it became nothing but a barren small island in a dull sea, with no waves; completely without action.

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Looking at it felt discomforting, and made me feel hollow like my soul and body are being wrung out of their energy.

I don't remember how it happened exactly. One day I woke up to find myself standing in the sea: the island was gone. I wasn't drowning or anything; my head was above the water and my feet were firmly planted in something.

The water wasn't cold or hot, it was somewhere uncomfortable in the middle.

I don't know when this place will get better, but for now, I'll just stand here, getting ever so slowly cooked.

Surprisingly, it doesn't hurt... but the boredom and monotony do, they are slowly and painfully chipping away at my soul.