everything is grey.

it's not the sharp, crisp grey that you love so much, either.

its a dull grey, the kind the world holds it's breath to watch.

the white noise filters into your dreamless, dull grey sleep. the days drone on, and you've lost track time. you don't know how long its been, what year it is, even. you've been held captive for so long, you're unsure if you even remember your name.

there are flashes of color, occasionally. the shocking bright purple of their hair, the cool, deep blue of her eyes, the soft brown of his fur.

its not enough to break you out, though.

their laughter, smiles, encouragement, has grown dull and grey to you over time, and has little affect anymore. its all added to the white noise.

you don't have a cell, per say. you're not that type of prisoner, but you've made one for yourself, because if you were going to be treated as a prisoner, you would keep your dignity and treat yourself like a proper prisoner, instead of the way they're treating you like a pet.

your prison is uncomfortable, like most. the bed doesn't ease the weight on your shoulders, there's no bright piercing colors, and the temperature reminds you of what you really are; a prisoner.

the white noise gets under your skin. the drone of the weak fan, the noises from the room next to you, its too much for you. you take it in stride, however. you don't let the noises take away the last of the dignity you have.

one day, you nurse the idea of escaping. it would be risky, but the thought of someplace that's comfortably cool, bright, and colorful makes it seem almost worth it. but the risk is too great.

you don't know where you'll be, after you break free. you don't know what's beyond the monochromatic walls of this prison life.

and your friends, your cell mates, the ones your guards don't want you to speak with, need you. they say that there's other ways to escape, and their pleading voices are enough for you. you stay, and you have been staying, for years now.

you know someday you'll be free, and your friends too. whether it be death, your initial plan, or it be the paradise your friends speak of, you know, somewhere deep down, that you'll be free.

you'll be happy.