Dear Rod Serling, I'm stuck in this godforsaken place.
Everything is so... ordinary. The people, the buildings, the endless fields of nothingness.
I've tried to escape, but the Zone's got me in its grasp.
It's like trying to find a door in a room with no doors.
Or a key to unlock the door that's not there.
I've written my name in the dust on the wall, but it's just a faint memory.
Wishing for the sweet release of the abyss.
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