Dean Schrödinger

Dawn-in-box-fort

I haven’t met him, at least not as the Dean. Could be a her, but Schrödinger’s always portrayed as a guy.

He’s thinking whether or not to kill me. Whether or not to keep me sane. Maybe he’s already decided, but he’s not allowed to say until later. Maybe i’m already dead.

I’m in a box. I’m not in a box. I’m in a jawlike box with two doors where the lips would be. I entered through one alive and wait to exit alive or dead- unless Schrödinger himself dies, leaving no record of my fate.

The mouth is full of me and it sickens me. I don’t like being eaten, but not eaten. It’s a double locked mouth, with the only key in Schrödingers’ pocket.

 My key is lost amongst tens of thousands of other keys. Some are bigger. Some are more colorful. Some of them will look ghastly to the Dean, some of them beautiful. The ghastly ones he throws to his underlings, who quickly unlock exits marked DEAD and kill their respective cats.  The beautiful ones he unlocks himself. For the beautiful ones he unlocks ALIVE.

 I’ve been told that I might appear a bit ghastly to the Dean. His or her identity remains unknown, so there’s no way to tell until one of the doors are unlocked.

 As for my ghastly appearance, I’d enjoy the death of one or two, oh, wait, fourteen people. That makes me seem a little homicidal at first. And last, if you don’t stick around.

 But I so want to live. I can’t measure myself precisely, but I enlarged myself to be as big as possible without destroying myself. I still fall on the smaller side due to certain restrictions, but I didn’t stay as small as I was at my making.

 The small, ghastly me wants to live so that I can give those without a Schrödinger’s chance a way to thrive. So that they can live without fear of this society. I want to live because I desperately desire to rise the voiceless above us.

  If you see Dean Schrödinger, please tell him to let me live.

____________________________________________________________

 I wrote this while waiting for college acceptance/rejection letters. I didn’t get into my original first choice, but as I became more accepting of other colleges, I realised I got into the best fit. It’s unexpected and far away, providing experiences I wasn’t aware of, and that’s what makes one a great writer; unexpected experiences. 

p.s, Benedict Cumberbatch 

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