Dear nobody,

                It’s funny. The first thing I asked for when I could communicate again was a pen and paper. It was like there was an urge for me to put down all my thoughts and emotions. I don’t know how I managed to remember all the letters of the alphabet so quickly, but I’m writing.

                The place isn’t very attractive. It’s very rectangular and small. The walls are a boring white and the small window Above only allows in minimal amounts of light. At night though, I like seeing Stars wave at me when I’m lying on Bed. Sometimes when I can’t sleep I dream that they come down and lift me away.

                Life is bland. The newspapers appear on Cart along with our meals three times a day. If I request for it, interesting books or a pack of cards appear too. There is a plant placed at West Corner and the toilet is at North. Only a thin curtain was built to cover ourselves when we need to shower or do our business there. Even as I’m writing, Chair squeaks beneath me and Desk rattles on its unstable legs. Hmm... Maybe I should request for some oil next time they ask. Requests are allowed every Saturday and I always look forward to that. However, I’m not allowed to request for sharp things. Even though I don’t remember much, I at least remember that sharp things can hurt someone.

                Four times a week I leave my room and visit Seokjin. He’s my best friend. I mean, I don’t ever remember having a best friend but he tells me he is and I believe him. He’s one of the only people I believe in. He’s nice and listens. He tells me stories of my past. Yongguk lives in Room 1230 down four flights of stairs. I can remember where he lives easily because that’s the numbers of my birthday. December 30. He tells me I’ll be turning 24 this year. I’m getting old.

                 The rest of the people living here barely ever go out of their rooms so I have never seen any of them.

                My neighbours are kind of weird too. At times in the middle of the night, West Wall shakes violently. I hear growls and screams through them and it scares me. They get so bad that I have to request for Request and tell them to, sorry for my language, shut the up. Missing sleep makes me angry. On other days, a weird old lady stops by my door and knocks seven times. The first time she did that, I opened the door and allowed her to come in. Never again have I opened the door when I hear seven knocks. I hope she learns to go bother someone else soon. I hate getting angry.

                I wonder, am I the only sane one here?