A Room of Hopes and Despair 

        It is a large rectangular building. However, it is not just any building. It holds many secrets and a plethora of emotions; happiness, sadness, mellowness, uncomfortability, safety, and relief. Those emotions are hidden within the many doors that only the angels around could see. Most travel from the boxed vehicle with noises blaring from it into different entrances all wanting for one necessity - help. Different pathways led to either hope or despair. These can range from the birth of a new human to a human being handed over to those same angels. But being there as the one asking for help can seem like a puppy walking alone in a strange and unfamiliar neighborhood. 

I woke up to the pungent alcoholic smell of hand sanitizers and disinfectants in the air. As I slowly opened my eyes, dust particles swirled around as the bright white lights beamed throughout the entire room. My head was spinning. “Wow,” I thought, “I am losing myself”.  It was pitch silent and the only thing I could hear was my own heavy breathing and the repeated “beep-beep” sound from my heart monitor that helped indicate I was still alive. The bed was rigid and hard and was covered in plastic. Every movement I made was loud enough to be heard down the hall. The room was freezing, and my face down to my feet had been overcome with waves of numbness and shocks of icy shivers. Being there felt like I was in Antarctica. Thoughts began to fill my head - “Why me…what did I do to deserve this?.. Where exactly am I?.. I wonder if they have good food?..Why does everything hurt?.. Why do I feel so alone when people are here”… With all of those thoughts I could only muster a sigh out of my mouth. I tucked my hands behind my back while underneath the thin quilted blankets to try and get some sense back to my body. This has been a habit of mine ever since I was young since this feeling mimics what felt to be a hug. Suddenly, I felt someone clasp their hands around mine as they quietly mumbled gibberish I couldn't comprehend. Lifting my hand up, I saw tubes connected all over my arm to my body. Following the tubes with my eyes, I saw multiple bags hanging right above me as I was connected to them. The color of crimson from the dripping of my blood into the bags was all I could see. I could smell the salty plastic from the tubes that were in my nose and throat. A parched feeling in my esophagus remained, void of moisture and dry as the Sahara desert. I looked around helplessly for some water and found next to me a small nightstand with a tall pink pitcher, along with a small paper cup filled with clear liquid with crushed ice. My muscles strained as I grabbed the cup. My body barely able to muster the strength reminded me of how my body was still so weak. Finally having that cold water, every swallow was soothing as it replenished my body. 

The room I occupied had multiple beds and paper-like light blue curtains attached to the ceiling. It allowed division between the beds, giving some privacy. Although, it seemed pointless as I could still hear everything from the beds next to me of who the person was and their reasons for being in this place. The walls, covered in white wallpaper, had small paintings hung up of people smiling. Without thinking I smiled back, immediately feeling the sting hitting my face, which turned the smile into something distorted. I looked over to the white board with the words “Today's Goal: Get better soon!”. With those simple words it made me feel melancholy and my smile faded away. It finally struck me, I was sick. Squinting my eyes to try and make out the words, I soon saw faint erased memos that read “little to no progression” along with names of body parts I could not understand. I began to observe the people around me. Through the crack of the curtains opened a whole new world. Looking out, people would think you are in New york. People dressed in either white or blue walked as fast as the speed of light, following loud alarms that signaled a patient in dire need of assistance. To achieve a sense of normality, I turned to the black screen mounted high above like a pedestal. This black screen, deserving of no such praise, was the best source of the comfortability I longed for. As I began to flip through each channel one by one, all that broadcasted was the depressing news of present day events occurring outside of this realm that I currently reside in. But after an endless amount of scrolling, Channel 34 was the 4-leafed clover that showed the bit of positivity I looked for in the form of “Impractical Jokers”. Though it seemed absurd, it was the best distraction I needed at the moment. “Seeing four lifelong friends that's trying to embarrass each other” made me softly giggle. I began to sonder and envy other people's lives that I ignorantly believed had no flaws.  But trying to hold in my laughter made the ache in my chest and torso worse. It is a similar feeling to an innocently accused man desperately trying to escape his hellhole. I was the innocent man. I quickly pushed the pain to the back of my head. Loud dings came from my door. Suddenly, two people dressed in blue came rushing in. Strangers are in my room. Then I heard three knocks at the door. There came a tall white figure, holding a brown clipboard with papers that had my entire life’s history in it. Though the presence of the man was to be nothing but good and reassuring, the only thing I grasped was the feeling of a reaper standing before me. A bad feeling began to emerge from my heart though the reaper had said nothing. I began to be pushed around on my bed. The opening and closing of doors felt endless. It felt as if i'm just a fish laying motionless already accepting its fate. I saw mouths opening and closing but no words were coming out of it. A sharp static began to pierce my ears. I quickly began to panic and it showed as the beeping began to intensify on the strange machine next to me.  The room felt as if I was playing ring around the rosey all over again. A panic attack came. It felt as if a lump in my throat began to form making it hard to breathe. My arms began to become weak and a cold feeling went up and down through my spine. My vision became blurry and everything was silent. Tears began to form in my eyes. It felt as if a tsunami had hit a small town. Uncontrollable water began to flow out. While trying to scream or make some noise to signal help, only whispers came out. Everything began to shift. I am no longer in control of my body anymore. Everything became dark. Pitch black. No textures, sound, or movement. I am floating. It is as if everything that was living stopped. I cannot even see my own body. Only feel. I continued to feel the sharp pain in my heart and the suffocating feeling around my neck. 

It feels as if I have been motionless for hours. The room I once remembered as a bright eye-sore is now gone. Suddenly I woke up to the pungent, alcoholic smell of hand sanitizers and disinfectants in the air. As I slowly opened my eyes, dust particles swirled around as the bright white lights beamed throughout the entire room. It was pitch silent and the only thing I could hear was my own heavy breathing and the repeated “beep-beep” sound from my heart monitor that helped indicate I was still alive.