Letter #1: Someone To Talk To

I know it’s not time yet, so I hope this reaches you well. I’m using voice to text, b’cause I’m driving. I just… need to get it off my chest. It’s getting worse. Maybe you, I mean we, can use it in the next session?

It’s every day. It’s the same every damn day. Every night, too. The voices, whispers—fuck, the whispers—and… the work. I wake up every day, I’m social both in person and on the net. It’s a real blessing, you know? That’s what I’m told. My parents didn’t have the ability to be so connected back in their day, so I try to take advantage of that. I do it when working ‘cause I have to. Then after work I relax. It’s me time. I tune out the things said about me. From other people and myself. I ignore the thought of having to do it all again tomorrow… and then I get in bed. Night passes slow, sleep never comes easy.

So, when the next day comes, guess what I do? That’s right, I wake up. Socialize. Work. Relax. Bite my fucking tongue and ignore the dramas before getting right back in bed to do it all AGAIN. Wake. Social. Work. Relax. Sleep. I can’t take it, I just can’t. It’s so repetitive. Even when I change it up, or it changes itself up, it’s repetitive. Wake. Wake. No, fuck. Sleep. Relax— It just hurts. And when it hurts, that’s when the whispers start.

Small little things, they are. I always hear them clear, and when I don’t I’m probably wasted or asleep. Happens quietly and softly at first, then loud, but yeah always clear. They talk about what happened today, and what will probably happen tomorrow. It always happens as they say because nothing ever changes.

I started talking to them after a certain point. That’s why I decided to reach out. Maybe it’s something serious, ‘cause they, well, answer me back. Sometimes they’d whisper something odd, like… like if I’m feeling as monochrome as they do, but I don’t get to answer, cause it’s like they know what I’m gonna say. So I’d say somethin’ back like ‘how do you know what I’m thinking?’, y’know? We just go back and forth. Every day, at the same time, and it helps! But it doesn’t, it just doesn’t, because they whisper about every single time I fuck up or forget a secret or… and…

Ah, shit… Could the whispering just be my own thoughts?

Have I lost it? Honestly… I don’t even know if I care anymore.

Your Room

“You walk into the room and sigh; the first breath of fresh air you’ve taken in days, if not years. Your shoulders relax as, for the first time since you’ve left home and became lost in mazes of halls and empty spaces… there are no dangers. ‘This room is my room’, you think with an exhausted look on your face. You pace it once, then twice to ensure nothing will jump out at you. ‘This room… is really my room’, you think again. You find yourself sinking into the familiar shiny beanbag chair you left behind years prior as you sigh. It’s warm, as if you never left. Your fingers trace the ridges of the crafted material before your hand brushes against your diary. Your journal. The one for children you discarded due to that very fact.

Picking it up, you open the leather-bound book and begin to read. Memories fill your head; memories of your parents, lover, and siblings, both of your blood and not. You smile to yourself remembering old times long passed. Times that matter little ever since you grew up and began living your life before the fall. You reach the bookmark in the middle of your diary and your smile drops as you suddenly remember how exactly you became lost. Shaking your head, you glance at a door no longer there. Your bedroom door. Thinking nothing of it, you decide to ensure that, this time, you wouldn’t forget. Just like you haven’t forgotten the past, all thanks to this little children’s diary and the repetition of melancholic life. For a brief moment, you wonder if that also is what led you here. Picking up a pen, you cross your arms as the light above begins to flicker; it was always old, always using up electricity none had. The pen clicked in your hand as you began to write: ‘I walked into the room and sighed, the first breath of air I’ve taken in days, if not years…’”

Letter #2: Unpaid Time Off

I’ve grown to like doing these things. Making little emails and letters and such talking about where I came from, y’know just so I won’t forget. Maybe it’ll help others cope, too… if there’s anyone else here besides me. I mean, there are. I’m just a bit skeptical, yeah? Where do I start… I guess picking up from where I left off:

I was working. Teaching at my local school, always wanted to but could never get a full-time position. Like clockwork, I was there every damn day, right on time. They really appreciated it, I think! The kids I mean. My boss too, otherwise I’d be fired. For the first month that was fine and dandy by me. It’s… I mean, it was okay. Second month more of the same, got used to how things worked and the day-to-day was pretty simple for me. I taught, spent some time after hours grading, went home to finish those grades and headed to bed. Wasn’t an avid drinker or party goer, ‘a real shut-in’ my wife used to say. But hey, I liked it. For a while. Third month and… honestly, I won’t bore you with it. It was the same as the second. And the fourth, and fifth, and ninth, and twelfth. My excitement turned to boredom real quick, but I put on a face for the kids I liked teaching. They’re our future, y’know? But after that bell rings? God did I look like a dead man walking. Inside, I mean. Or maybe outside, too. Who knows, I just know the feeling wasn’t anything new.

I felt this exact way when she left. So I started trying to find things that would bring some more color back into my life if you get my drift. The school was colorful enough, but that kinda all just blended into the same shade… I didn’t like it anymore. It was just the same ‘ole same old for me. Tried smoking, god that sucked. Nearly died. Clubs were too loud, the movies were too crowded, so my wife bought me this Kindle long ago. Neat little thing, I got fascinated with it, reading all types of stuff! Not at first, though. Horror, drama… you name it. But then I really found my pace when I found a certain genre online, on a certain site I’ve never seen before. Let me tell you, I was hooked! I read a lot of articles on that forum, always after school and before bed. Day in and day out, always on those times, my only free time, like… well, clockwork. Eventually, that lost its color for me too.

I decided to read one more from the site one day, and that’s where I found a write-up that felt… familiar to me. I mean, real familiar. Shit, I was living it, so I must’ve been the target audience. It was called “The Monochrome” and it was interesting enough. I kept reading, and reading until… well, it made me a bit more aware of things. When I was done, my clumsy self hit the side of the closet door. Knocked my lights out for a moment or two, saw all sorts of colors. Ahh no no, just one color. For a flash of a moment. It was red. My favorite color, hard to forget. Never looked at my wife, or the kids, or anyone the same after. I couldn’t tell you why. Felt a bit better though, even though I was feeling a lot worse that year.

Put in for some time off. Probably wasn’t gonna get paid (definitely not now, I’ve been home for months), and I’ve been here… this way… ever since. I’m not stressing about it. Somehow, money’s coming in. I don’t remember how, maybe a side job. But this break is… it’s nice. Tomorrow I’m gonna go outside for once, maybe. Always wanted to go exploring someplace calming or eerie. As long as it’s quiet. Can’t shake the feeling that if I do that… I won’t come back. I’d get lost in the back of some place and that’ll be it. But I also can’t shake the feeling that I’m totally fine with that. Live and learn, right? Or maybe I’m just sick in the head for thinking about abandoning my wife to go on some trip.

I can’t take her with me. She wouldn’t understand, I don’t think. Instead, I’ll just schedule a few emails, link to that article I read on my favorite website, and yeah. That’ll do. Edit: I took her with me when I left. She’s right in my pack, wrapped nicely. Maybe I’ll buy a frame for her. If I find someplace I think is nice enough, I’ll prop her up on the shelf and try to explain to her how life is.

I hope she understands.

road trip to the quiet.

Letter #3: Permission To Fade

I’m not okay, I’ve been trapped down here for god knows how fucking long. And I just can’t do it anymore. I couldn’t. Just walking, turning, that annoying noise abovehead and the neverending streaks of yellow and tan, the occasional red or black it… it’s too much. It was too much. I miss my family, I miss my friends and even that annoying asshole who kept bothering me. Yeah, I miss them, and I never thought I’d miss being bullied. Of course, I miss him too. The love of my life. Every day, or night, or both even, I think about all the things I just couldn’t say. The things I had no time to say. I was too slow, but who would ever think something like this could happen to them?

Is this my own little hell for something I’ve done in my life? I was no saint, I’m still not and I’m lucky that ray of sunshine even married me, but… this? What could I have done to deserve this?

All I did was take a wrong turn. My car broke down, so I went into the gas station, middle of nowhere, and… I think I had to use the bathroom. I turned the handle, and I was here. The way back wasn’t there anymore. I was just in the middle of an empty, dark room. Heh, I remember being so fucking terrified. I don’t do well with big spaces, it freaks me out. Especially when they’re empty. So I ran. I ran as fast and as hard as I could, but it was more of the same. Just better lit. The squelch of something wet hitting my heel and the buzzing lights reminded me of my barely cleaned cubicle back home. The reminder was comforting, but it quickly turned annoying. Then depressing. Because it was just a reminder that I was probably going to die here. Alone. So I stopped running. Walking was fine, now.

I got by from the little I had on me, but I know I’ll run out soon. That didn’t stop me from trying to leave. Just when I thought I found something new, it was just a new level of hell for me to traverse. An endless maze made by some fucked up god who thinks this is funny. But you know the crazy thing about it all?

I’ve gotten used to it.

The same run down ugly color, the sorta-wet floor, the flickering, the… loneliness. I think somewhere in my heart, I’ve started to accept that this is my life now. For worse or worse. I don’t see the ‘better’ part yet. I think I started talking to the walls at some point. And at some other point, they replied to me. I saw my friends, my family, my husband and the kids he’s so fond of. I don’t think they’re real, but they’re real enough. Real enough to hug, to cry with, to reminisce. They’re still here. They walked with me through this hellish maze until we found a small room that looked a tiny bit different. There were some chairs in it, and a working computer. You’d think I’d be overjoyed to see it, but I just… I don’t know. I just walked over, and sat down, and looked to see what was on it.

No internet access, or maybe those bars mean there is. I’m not too tech savvy, I’m sorry, I know it’s the ‘new’ craze. But this computer turned out to be a blessing. It let me get my thoughts out like this. On a forum I found where others felt the same as me. Had the same experience as me. Always loved reading, got my beloved into it, but I don’t think he ever appreciated it as much as I did… maybe sometime after I left he used that Kindle I bought him? God, who knows. I do know that, I used to think I was never going to leave this place, but I was told, reassured, that I’d be getting a different chance in scenery. A break, an oasis in hell. They said they’d come to get me when I knew enough, and I believe them. I might be going crazy, but I don’t really care. At least, when I meet them, whoever they are, I can ask them if there’s any way to contact the ones waiting for me back at home. If he’s still waiting for me.

I hope he understands that I didn’t leave on purpose.

Letter #4: “Monochrome”

To: █████, on the Blue Marble
From: ‘Monochrome’, in the Backrooms

Hello! May this message find you well.

How are you? Recovering, I hope, but if not, that is fine too! Recovery is a slow process, and sometimes it never truly completes. It can be a lifelong thing. I speak from experience; getting lost, getting sick, falling through and missing them… only to find them once again. In my arms. I’m not sure if it’s true, but why should anyone care about that? The comfort is knowing that all is well here, right now. Honestly, when it all shifted, when I realized (and promptly ignored) that I may not be home, my mind simply made a new home for myself. It was as easy as closing my eyes, and when I opened them, there they all were. The people I missed, the people I loved, hated, and lost. You never truly know how much you appreciate someone until they’re gone and remade from scattered hopes.

It makes you want to go out and find them. But, when you fail… all of that hope just becomes a dream. A burning memory. Nothing burns forever, though, so when the fire goes out, I’m not too sure what to call that cold feeling you get. When you know that all your efforts amounted to nothing, so you just go back and continue on with your life. It’s never the same after that, but I’m sure I don’t have to tell you of all people that! Yep… I’m sure by now, you know that what’s yours is yours, and what you can’t have is not. Your surroundings, your room, the whispers and the isolation of being left alone. Not by choice. Or, maybe, you did choose that. Maybe that’s why this message reached you. There is a small chance that it did not, and in that case, I’m fairly sure it will be here until you’re ready for it. A fantasy until you come along and make it true.

That’s enough about that, I forgot to tell you how I’m doing. I’m okay. Things are… normal. I’m living my life.

I used to go to this school in my town until my teacher disappeared, then I left myself. Some delusional kid I was, thinking I’d be the town hero and find him. The bounty was also a factor, haha… But now? As I said, I’m doing okay. Honestly, where I am right now is a wonderful place. The best thing is… when you read this, I’ll be awake. I’ll be there. We can talk! And when you inevitably move on to the next thing, I won’t be there of course. I’ll be ‘asleep’. Everyone will be. Graduation, rent, my failing friendships… I don’t have to worry about any of it when I’m sleeping. It just all goes on pause, the whole world.

I think I earned that much. It’s my recovery, my redo in a way! Because everyone from before is here with me. They’re my friends. Even though I’ve been where you are, and I’ve gotten lost where you aren’t yet before stopping here… I’m not ready to give up yet.

It sounds insane, I know. After dealing with the dread of thinking everyone’s out to get me, then falling through, then nearly starving… and then rising to this big… break room, I call it, you’d think I want out. But I don’t.

When I am, they’ll be here when I go to sleep one last time. I hope to see you here.

Farewell, and yours soon, ████.

Letter #5: Entering Uncanny Hills

I can’t believe the Monoforums page works.

It looks a bit dated, or I guess fake, but also… sleek. Like… chrome! The browser, not the colour. I like it. I’ll keep this short for everyone, since hey who knows, maybe there’s someone out there that feels the same as we do. Maybe they need the company or reassurance. I know I needed to be talked down from the ledge so I could make the jump somewhere else.

Anyway, don’t worry about my name. I live in Pleasant Hill, state… also not important. If you’re scared, don’t be. I was at first, but… I’m not anymore. It is what it is, as my pops used to say. I’m still home, but things are different now. I’d say they’re a bit uncanny—hey maybe I’ll title this thing that—but that wouldn’t be right.

My family’s still around me. Dog’s still here, cat’s doing fine. But I know they’re not really… there. Even if I can feel their fur. Or, maybe they are… Maybe the forums aren’t really there and I’m misremembering. It’s a possibility! I haven’t taken my meds in a bit, but I’ve never felt better, oddly enough!

I’m rambling, I just wanted to get this out real quick. To whoever, to me, to everyone else: the feeling’s mutual. Hell, if you’re seeing this, you’re probably here already. Or, will be. I’m not you. I just want you to be as content as I am.

Cheers, mate.