Waiting To Be Used (Filed Under: Documents>Thoughts>Scraps)

There was a massive white room, I can only assume it was a room because I could not see the sun and everything was far too white and smooth for it to have been an exterior, in which sat a man on a chair. There were no walls to be seen and the space was devoid of a ceiling. A shiny white ribbon of floor stretched out in every direction and the air was uniformly, gleaming white. The only variation in the visual value was due to the vignetting of my eye, a sliver darker at the corners. I invested a good deal of time in making sure that this was no trick of the room, it wasn’t. The room stood in perfection. The only fault within the space was myself; of this I was keenly aware. There was never a sunrise or a sunset, seasons were absent…it was one perfect moment in time; but unlike anything I had ever encountered, it was frozen. Perhaps it was an infinite series of perfect moments standing in a row, but my wanting brain was stretch too thin already; such a concept would certainly have burst it.

The chair was a very ordinary chair by the unspoken standards of the room, yet I desired it madly. It was the chair of greatest portion. The man sitting in it did not seem to possess any particularly obvious reason for having such a divine seating appointment, at least not at my first glance. Yet there was something that was not all-together plain about him. His face was placid. His eyes were exceedingly clear. And though his lips never ceased to hold there ever so slightly set smile, it was clear that lucid wisdom would flow forth if he ever broke his silence. I am not sure how I knew this, I simply did. The room had a way of slipping things into your head, unbeknownst to you, but their factuality was certain. He held himself in a way of respect, but not in as you see soldiers who crave attention, his objective was not attention. For all the circling, poking, prodding and whatnot that I did, he never took the slightest notice of me. I was fascinated. He was becoming less ordinary, far less ordinary. My desire for his seat was ever growing.

Time was as useful there as drink or food. I had not seen either of the ladder two since my arrival eons ago. My preoccupation with the seat grew. “When is he going to leave?” I asked myself time an again. The waiting was unbearable.

Finally, I stood directly before him, “What are you waiting for?!?” I shouted.

“To be used.” he replied.