#caterposter

so let’s say five minutes. five months. five years. fifty. five hundred. five thousand. how long do you think you can last. maybe you talk to the mouse. maybe you pet the mouse. maybe you try to be kind to the mouse.

it’s the only other thing in the room. you don’t get to leave.

it’s the mouse’s fault you’re in here, by the way. if it hadn’t bit you, maybe you’d still be free. you don’t blame it. it’s a mouse, and it was scared, and it didn’t understand, not really, you wanted it to but it didn’t. it hurt you, but you forgave it.

it’s the only other thing in the room. you don’t get to leave.

maybe you don’t think of yourself as a good person. maybe you know you are something broken and that’s why you’re in this room. and the mouse is the reason you’re in this room. it knows what you are. it knows better than anyone. it knows, and it put you in this room. you wanted to be kind to the mouse.

how long do you think you could last. you don’t actually get to know how much time has passed. you could count, but that’s not how it works. for you, or for the mouse.

it’s the only other thing in the room. you don’t get to leave.

how long until you hurt the mouse. you apologize. you didn’t mean to. but it squeaks and screams. that’s new. it has been so long since you had anything new. because there’s nothing but you and the mouse and you have been kind to the mouse but it has run out of things to tell you and games to play and ways to react to you.

you hurt the mouse again.

it’s the only other thing in the room. you don’t get to leave.

you are not a good person. you know this. and you don’t like mice, anyway. you don’t like this one. you never have. you never have. you need to hurt it. it put you in this room. everything wrong with you is the mouse’s fault. it has to be. because it can’t be your fault. if it’s your fault, there’s nothing you can do, there’s nothing you can change, but if the mouse is the problem? you can hurt the mouse.

you feel like you have been in this room your entire life. the mouse only just got here. it has no idea how good it has it.

you torture the mouse. you break its bones. and you tear its tail off. and you skin it. and you eat it. and it comes back, good as new.

because it’s the only other thing in the room. and it doesn’t get to leave you.

and you’re going to run out of things to do again. you will. you don’t get to leave and there’s only so much pain that can be novelly inflicted. but right now, you can hurt the mouse.

you never liked the mouse. you were only kind to it to trick it into trusting you, so that you could hurt it. you can tell yourself this forever. you and the mouse. because it’s the only other thing in the room. and neither of you get to leave. so one day, you’ll both believe it.

you were kind to the mouse, though. you loved it.

you keep killing the mouse.

and then someone takes the mouse away from you.

you are alone in the room. and you don’t get to leave.

you think this is your punishment for hurting the mouse. you accept it.

time passes. time passes. time passes. you don’t get to leave. there’s nothing in the room but you.

the mouse deserved it. the mouse put you here, and it abandoned you, and you can’t accept a punishment that won’t end. not that you can do anything about it. you don’t get to leave.

you were supposed to be trapped here together, and instead, it’s free and you aren’t and it’s a mouse. all you ever did was what was expected of you. it’s a mouse, and it bit you, and broke the rules, and it doesn’t have to be punished anymore. but you do. there’s something wrong with you. you’re worse than the mouse ever could be, no matter what you do, and you always will be, and you always have, and that’s why all you feel like you’ve ever known is this fucking room.

you hate the mouse. and when you get your hands on it again, you’re going to make it pay for every second you had to be alone.

but you won’t. you know that. because you don’t get to leave.