Your eyes glaze over as you gaze across the empty room into the unblemished, untouched plain wall of white. There is nothing breaking up the sterile and newly painted surface; it is entirely barren of any bumps, patches of discolouration, or decoration. You let a deep sigh for the umpteenth time as you pace back and forth across the featureless room. Each one of those long sighs comes without thought, as if your body is trying to exhale the roiling stress welling inside your soul. Occasionally, you mumble to yourself, to your past, to memories, words that would have changed events or created new, better ones to take their place.

Finding yourself at the front door through your aimless pacing, you see a clean white envelope lying there alone, solitary on the brown bristled doormat, staring up at you impatiently, waiting, demanding to be opened. You know what it is; it couldn’t be anything else. Within the envelope that has been sitting alone, untouched for days, taunting you, are the grades you achieved in your last year. Your nose crinkles, and your face scowls at the thought of the word achievement being linked to your grades. You know you have failed, which is why it still sits there unmolested because the second you rip open the envelope and gaze within, your belief becomes an immutable certainty. The last year of your life being nothing but an utter unrepentant failure, a total waste.

Continuing your repeated pacing, a curse you’ve been inflicted with for half a week, you enter the only room that is not totally empty. A solitary camping bed sits in the corner of the room with a sleeping bag messily draped across the frame. You have been gifted the money to furnish the place by your father, as well as the apartment itself, but you have not found the energy or drive to push you to do such. Instead, you have moped around your new home. There was some scant talk about the you and your father continuing to live together this year, but the conversation never found a conclusion and died a forgotten death. It could have been a nice place if you or anyone else put in the effort, and it certainly is spacious enough with five distinct rooms. But instead of a home, it is a blank, featureless prison that you are entombed within. Utterly alone and lonely.

Looking out one of the many windows, you watch more droplets of rain coat the transparent surface and dribble down the glass. You’ve always loved the rain. There is something special in the rain that you find resonates within your soul, but you struggle to explain. The rain continues to lash at the window with hundreds of tiny thumps as you stare through into the darkness of night sheathed behind. Finally, deciding you need some fresh air to break free of the oppressive loneliness this prison perpetuates. You grab your coat and walk out of your apartment, with a spiteful step landing on the single shameful letter sitting on your doormat.