I want out

I remember this place. It’s been years at least since my last time cooped up in this room. I would venture to say I’ve spent most of my life outside these walls but I couldn’t be sure…what is time after all but the pasting together of moments? My days have been broken down into segments, there is the ‘sleep’ time, which takes up most of the day, then there is ‘meal time’ twice a day. Breakfast and dinner are tied for my favorite segments of the day. I get an occasional bathroom break but it’s really important that I’m quiet when they let me out of this room. I have had several close calls with a violent couple that have tried to attack me on sight. They have acted effectively as my prison guards, my watchdogs that detest the very notion of my comfort and peace. I hate them, I really do. The man in charge of this place isn’t much better either, he hates me but in his words “will tolerate [my] existence so long as [I] behave” My mother and father visit from time to time to tell me to keep my spirits up. Father says he will take me away from here soon, but I can tell that he has no real plan. Things have been extra harsh around here lately ever since my last protest. The man was starting to become upset with my drinking problem. I have a condition, you see, where I cannot drink water without making a mess all over the place. He demanded my water ration be cut; this disturbed me greatly. The man’s son is my roommate and to be honest: I like him; I think he’s alright but I resolved that he would suffer in solidarity with me. The good news was that I had done time with him in the past so I knew he wasn’t going to try to off me in my sleep, he’s not a man of that kind of conviction. That being said, he did annoy me with his claiming of the only bed in the room. I was perfectly happy to alternate between him sleeping on the floor and him sharing the bed with me once a week but he didn’t even ask what I thought on the matter. For that, I made it a point to rub my ass on his pillow every night. Anyway, the day my water ration was cut I was angry. On top of that injustice, I had only one bathroom break the entire day. In my anger I formulated the perfect plan of vengeance. A plan that if executed flawlessly would stay in the hearts and minds of my oppressors long after I am gone. I decided it was time to defecate all over our bed. I knew I wouldn’t mind the act; I’ve long since abandoned my dignity and my will to be civil in this barbaric world. The one issue was that of my mental block. Call it what you will but I am a shy pooper. I pushed and pushed much like a mother giving birth though in this moment I felt like less of a woman. Finally after much concentration, I had done it and it was one of my finest works I must say. There was a clear issue: it was too obvious, too clear, too simple, so I covered it with the blanket and marveled at the land mine I had produced. In this moment of my successful rebellion something odd happened within me: I felt empty, I wasn’t satisfied, I craved more, so I soaked the covers in my urine and waited. My roommate often disappears for large chunks of the day; he is allowed to go outside because of nepotism. After many long hours of sitting in the corner, I finally witnessed him reentering our room. I watched him cross the confined space; he seemed exhausted and dived into the bed without a second thought only to immediately regret it. He was immediately changed, broken, as he stood up to realize he was coated in my fluids and our sheets were painted with my essence. He cried out “No! Why!? What did I ever do to you?!” I sat there; watching him yell at me, the fool clearly did not understand the nature of chaos. He grabbed me by the neck and stuck my face in the filth as though that would make me regret my courageous act. I didn’t break; I wasn’t weak like him. Long story short, things have been tense around here since that incident. I stare out the window every day and long to feel the wind blow through my hair but it feels like my confinement has only gotten worse. I resolved to write this memoir from the safe haven I have found under our bed. It has kept me sane in these trying times, maybe one day…oh wait, the door is opening, hold on, I’ll be right back....

Okay, I’m back, there’s been a noteworthy update: that was my father, he came to tell me to pack my stuff, we’re leaving today, which is great news because they didn’t let me go to the litter box today so I shat the bed again out of necessity and my roommate is going to be livid when he gets home. Chris, if you find this and are reading it, it was nothing personal, consider it a going away gift.