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I'm the only one on this floor. As in, everyone seems to have not gotten on the elevator, or gotten off too early. Much to their disappointment, I might add, where they're at is nothing quite like this floor.

The building appears to be shabby from the outside, but it's in quite pristine condition with elegant tapestry and two pronged light posts every two meters on the wall. Gold plated. Dark, hard wood furniture and a red rug running down the endless hallways.

So many rooms, so many lost memories. I forgot what it was like to be 16 and loving you the right way. Things got muddier once the rest of life sunk in and time stole our youth. I no longer want to be oppressive. I realize that it has been my commonplace to do such things that were overbearing, and loud; very off-putting for you, or anyone who thought they loved me. It was a long, meandering road, but eventually I broke above the inversion - with the help of this tenant and some guidelines.

But this building, it has always been here. I've never really thought about it, but I've never left. Always just moving rooms, or up. It does get nicer though, the longer I stay with the higher I get.

Have I gone mad? Quite possibly yes, but Alice told me that all the best kinds of people do. I may have gone there, but I'm certainly back from it. I aspire to be pleasant, cheerful, observant, considerate and happy. Those things are nice, but quite hard. I've left the light on, in case you want to stumble in to this life.