For context, this story jumps right into it. It's more of an emotional representation of an amalgamation of emotions more than anything

[mid  1900s broadcast announcer voice] "Come here, come all! See the crazy bro do it all! From batshit insane to catshit in the rain. it makes no sense, when did it ever, really?"

Helicoptors swoop over. "Education", they chant. One louder than the other, but both every-present nonetheless. The big black one, more of an Apache than anything, has "EDUCATION." gong across it as if it were an advertisement blimp for a sports game. 

Down the hallways you walk. That of a home, with that weird yellow beige coloring the walls, and that white stop at the corner between the floor and wall. It's narrow, only every enough space of about 2 feet, from wall to shoulder on each end. 7 feet tall the corridor may be, you walk it down and hear a bee. Buzzing. Buzzing strings. You hear a bee, buzzing the strings of an ever-so maltuned violin. Each step you take, each creek of the floorboard, the big helicopter roars, the smaller white news copter only following by encouragement of the Apache. 

The left wall buzzes, but the right wall plays a the saxaphone ellegantly. You don't understand it, but who's to question. The longer the walk, the more the copters magnet you to the left wall. it's only when you turn your back do you cling to the right wall, only ever so slightly as to not get caught. To be fair, you have some some misdeeds to ground the reality of Left Wall, however it was no other fault then that of your brain, a genetic ability that has envoked the Apache to magnetize you towards the Left Wall. 

When the copters are turned, you cling to Right Wall. When clinging for long enough, you open your mouth. Nothing comes out, but a mental image of a beautiful sounding ukulele occurs. You only know that if you were able to connect with the Saxophone beyond the wall, could you hear yourself talk that rich Ukulele. 

The only time you can open your mouth is to the sound of a broken bongo, tired and battered down by days end. Hoping that you can maybe hit the high notes on Right Wall, and get some creativity flowing. BUT alas, you can only high those high notes silently, whilst occasionally hearing that mental Ukulele. 

It's quiet, it's hard, and you may regret things. The Copters aren't that understanding. The Apache claims to know it all but when it comes down to it, doesn't consider the circumstance you are you in and according to your behaviors and patterns, instead blaming it SOLELY on your distractions. On a fair account, your distractions have helped with your magnet to the Left Wall, but even with those distractions removed, you still somehow forget, leading to miscommunication and the Apache thinks you're lying but you're not and it's just your mental ability and you can't tell them that because there's been too much. You weren't aware how your mental ability was affecting your trust with the Apache until it was too late, and blaming a fair and justifiable amount on the Apache would just be brushed off a pebble to the ocean.