He didn't know why he had to do it. Even if his letter was in the trash the minute he turned his back on this notice board. He didn't know whether it was right. But that became a therapy. Although it isn't private. However, in two years, he had never felt so alive. In two years, he had never felt his heart beat so fast. In two years, he had never felt such temerity. So he pulled out another letter from his bag and hung it on the notice board. And he left it in the middle of it, surrounded by a few papers from the administration of the Faculty of Human Sciences.

                                                                                               *   *   *

LETTER

The lights dazzle me. They blind me. Wherever I go, they always are in front of my face like camera flashes. When I wait at a crossroad that the road cleared for me, it stared at me with its red dot. It gauges me as if I don't have to stand in front of it. Ready to eat, it makes fun of my clothes and my expression, thinking that I'm not up to the place it announces. But with its nauseating green light, it's no better than me. In the intimacy of my life, although warm, the golden lights or the dance of the flames of the candles don't appease me. They sink me even deeper into my darkness, being the only witness of my loss.

And there are those lights, the ones I'm facing right now. They are bright and multiple colors. Yet shadows come to darken them, to blur them, to make them wavy. They're never distinct and partially color my light brown skin. They never come to attack me or to meet me insistently. However they attack me, reminding me that I'm not welcome.

Little by little, the world closes around me, imprisoning me in a bubble where the sounds don't reach me any more. I'm cut off from the outside life. I can only watch what is taking place without being able to do an action. I have the impression of being an animal in a cage that people enjoy watching and making fun of, without this poor animal being able to defend itself. Only able to fix those bizarre people.

The gaze fixed in the void, the arms along the body, the voices and noises reach me indistinctly in the ears. Only existence continues to be strong around me. And there's that little voice that murmurs in my head, that voice that whispers in my ear: what do you see in the distance? At the bottom of the tunnel, what do you perceive?

Nothing. Only the void. I see nothing in the distance, only darkness. The unknown that surrounds me and makes my own darkness even darker. I see a deep well that I cannot escape.

And in this tunnel, there's no light. It has no walls either. It's just a tube of darkness in which I grope my way. Without ever finding the exit.

And this bubble never burst. It doesn't pierce itself. Do not open any holes to the outside world. Asphyxiating me with its air. Asphyxiating myself in my own poison.

And those lights that burn my iris continue to enlighten me, as if it's the only source of heat I'm entitled to. Without ever enjoying the sun or the love of the people around me.

Just a unique and tiny prison in the longevity of existence.

                                                                                                 *   *   *

And just like the first letter that disappeared, only a red drawing pin remained.