3.

Before I was living in color. Now it's in black and white. The landscape is marked into the time before, and the time after. The landscape now is dark. It's empty. It's lonely. There aren't side of the road attractions, exciting visitors, or differences in the day. It's just there. It's there because there has to be some sort of landscape - right? Some place where I'm existing. The landscape where I am now is there because it has to be. No one wants to be here - not even the landscape. It knows what it's filled with. Vast voids, black holes, eerie quiet. Sometimes you feel the wind. Sometimes you don't. How does this landscape compare to the one from before? It's hard to even say. Before you could craft your landscape. Add things in, bring about some color. You had some say about what it could look like. And now? No one wants to spend any time on this landscape. There's no adding things, bringing things in to brighten it up. It just exists exactly as it is - knowing that no one wants to be there, to spend time there, that we've been forced upon it by no choice of our own. This landscape is bleak. People try to tell you it's not as bad as it seems but they don't fucking know. They don't have to spend their time here. Talking honestly about this landscape can make them feel uncomfortable, so a lot of the times you just smile and nod and go on pretending. But truly, there's nothing here you want. But here I am - and I have no idea for how long. I know what brought me here but I have no idea how I'll leave.