A short allegory about a fly and a room
| I sat alone in the center of my quiet room. There wasn’t anything in it except for myself, looking at the blank, white walls. They were all I needed. My room isn't too large, but not really small either. I can wander around it comfortably enough and not be bored.
One day, as I was sitting in my room, I heard a faint buzzing. Confused, I looked around to find where it was coming from and noticed a fly flitting in the corner. I never figured out how he got in, because I never open my window, but it didn’t bother me too much. He seemed harmless, so I didn’t try and kill him. I thought he’d eventually leave and so I ignored him at first.
He didn’t leave. After a few days the buzzing was getting to me. When I couldn’t ignore it anymore, I brought a radio into my room. I hoped the music would drown him out and I wouldn’t be able to hear him. The sounds surrounded me and enveloped the room, replacing the sound of the fly entirely. The music helped for maybe a week, but eventually I heard the fly and his buzzing through it and I turned it off. There wasn't a point in keeping it on, and the unnecessary sounds only made me feel worse.
After another few days I decided to paint the walls of my room yellow and pink. I thought the bright colors would make me forget the fly even existed, and I could continue life without worrying about him. For about a month I was the happiest I’d ever been. The new and fantastic colors changed how I looked at everything. Eventually, though, the colors faded. Their bright passions returned to nothings. I’d stare and concentrate for hours, but they didn’t have the same effect as before. When they became dull I heard the fly again, and his buzzing was even louder than before. I started to lose hope.
Eventually, the fly made me angry. His constant buzzing was pushing me to the edge. After a few more days, I broke. I began to scream and rampage around my room, but no matter what I did I heard him. I chased him down and tried to kill him, slapping and hitting the air he flew in, but I couldn't hit him. He then landed on my wall, mocking me. He made me so enraged that I punched my wall as hard as I could, leaving a hole. I missed. In that instant, I didn’t hear the fly and I didn’t feel the pain in my hand. All I could do was look in horror at my wall and at the hole I had made. The once beautiful array of yellow and pink was broken. After truly realizing what I’d done, I collapsed and crawled back to the center of my room where I laid down and cried myself to sleep to the sound of the fly and the pain of guilt buzzing in my mind.
When I woke, nothing had changed. I don't know how long I'd slept. Everything around me, including time, seemed beyond my grasp. The hole was still there and the fly buzzed endlessly all around me. After another period of sulking I decided to do something I’d never done before, something that terrified me. I got up and began to slowly walk towards my window. My legs trembled and I could feel myself start to cry again as I came nearer towards it. Every now and then I would look outside through it and admire what I saw, but I’d never done this. I was finally in front of it. I unlocked it, took a deep breath, and lifted.
The feeling of everything leaving me took me by surprise. It felt like I could breathe for the first time and I could feel the fly leave through my window. My window was only open for a few seconds but after what felt like a lifetime, I slammed it shut and locked it again. It was over. The fly was gone. It felt like I had fixed everything. I smiled and turned around, only to see the hole in my wall was still there, and could never be fixed. I looked back outside and saw the fly by my window, peering into his former home. He was wanting to come back in, and I didn't know if I could fully prevent that. At least I had my room to myself for now, different than it was before.