It is stifling in here.

The same stale air and the smell of dirt is everywhere. I can almost feel the weight of it on my clothes, in my pockets, on my skin.

The darkness, the blackness, it is encompassing; it feels like a cocoon, like a thick liquid that I float in.

I have nothing but time. Time and death. Over and over and over.
There's nothing left to me.

But I remember...