Intramuro

This is page 1 of an unwritten story.

For them.

I was fully self-aware the moment I was conceived.  I did not understand where I was at first - my eyes were not initially as useful as they would be later - but I was not uncomfortable. Flashes of heaviness, of being shaken or attached or nudged, of proprioceptive disorientation created opportunities to ask questions of my little bubble - and helped me ultimately appreciate when I began breathing, when I had a thumping, beating heart, when I had arms and legs and eyes like tiny buttons shielded behind clear lids.

I did not have a sense of other, of there being anything save myself; I was, I believe, protected from what I suspect was a form of nascent loneliness.  Loneliness only happens when you realize there is you and other.  The closest I had to an "other" was the hint of a quiet, repetitive sound above my head. I heard it louder and with more clarity as I grew; however, it was simply a reliable background noise - my own personal waterfall.

I would sometimes find it hard to breath, later to swallow, and I gained an appreciation of the difference between solids and liquids.  I liked liquids - oddly textured fluids with varying viscosities, flowing in and around my small, flexible home, providing me entertainment, nourishment, another means of appreciating and reveling in my ever growing form.  I was fascinated by solids - they came in far more forms - but I rarely had a real chance to be entertained by them; solids were often liquids by the time I saw them waltz near.

At some point my eyes added another dimension to my surroundings. I finally saw the liquids and solids moving near and around - though, before I had any sort of neck, I was only able to notice what was directly in front of my face.  My sense of self grew the quickest when my eyes began to work; at most I saw light variations in blacks and grays and these helped me realize when strange gasses would come from me and travel along different paths from somewhere behind my head.

I learned to move and learned the prepositions of position; I had an up and a down. As I gained mobility I also realized I could turn my head - these helped me notice more clearly where the solids and liquids were going and from where the gasses were coming. Somewhen around this I began to be amused by all sorts of things. Some days were filled with amusement at the textures of just certain liquids, or the way I could barely move my fingers after some of the more viscous liquids came into my notice.

On the last day, a strange object blocked my view of the liquids.  As I tried turning my head, a strange sensation informed me that my legs had disappeared.  Then my hands. I slowly blinked and it became hard to breathe ... and then I no longer hurt.