I am, then, faced with the entire rainbow wavering right in front of my eyes. There are beautiful patterns morphing and becoming more, and more beautiful. I decide I never want to come out of this closet, and realize there’s no reason for me to today. To my delight, I suddenly remember what I was laughing about, and it succeeds in making me laugh again. Then, without fail, I promptly forget it and try as hard as I can to remember what it was that made me laugh.

This makes me feel the physical act of thinking again. I am baffled and remember I should go to my computer and record my thoughts. I spend the next 90-120 minutes going through this seemingly endless loop of crying about missing my family and wondering if they’re really disappointed in me, and laughing at what I soon forget, and seeing the most beautiful assortment of colors I can ever remember seeing.

Reluctant to leave this life-changing closet, I finally push the closet door open and am overcome with light. I step out and stretch my legs. I come to the conclusion it’s probably around 4:30 or maybe even 5:00. It turns out to be around 3:30-ish, which is still an impressive amount of time to be sitting in a closet doing nothing but thinking.

I switch the song after 34 plays of that depressing song to “Ambling Alp” by Yeasayer. After perhaps half an hour of that song, I call my friend back after about 4 or 5 hours and ask if he still wants to go to the dining hall. He agrees and says he’ll come up in about 10 minutes. I convince myself he sounded annoyed with me, so, too scared to call him back, text him I’m not hungry and I’ll just see him later.

I escape back into the closet and desperately give the resin ball another go so I stop thinking about if I annoyed my friend. I had my iTouch with me this time and still had Yeasayer playing. I turned it up extra-loud so I wouldn’t hear if my friend knocked on my door. I spark up the resin and manage to get a little something but it wasn’t by any means anything that would’ve been worthwhile any other day.

I manage to throw myself back into the time loop for a little while, and end up a crying a few more times throughout the day, but the peak had diminished by this time. I don’t spend as long in the closet, and give eating a go. It doesn’t seem to affect much. I watch ridiculous, scripted BS shows on Hulu and overanalyze them just for something to do.

The next few hours passed with a slight depression phase initially but evolved into the best, greatest mood I’d been in for awhile. Visual side effects were pretty much a thing of the past but I notice my eyes are still pretty impressive. I end the day tagging hidden places all over my room with scribblings like “LUCY BROUGHT ME HERE. 11/6/10″ on top of a pipe running along the length of the ceiling and, on the inside of my closet door, “Respect this closet, it changed my life.” The last place I tagged was beneath my desk drawer, which I don’t remember what I wrote.”

And that is Mary’s story. Mary could be in your neighborhood, across the hall, in your room. Maybe you’re Mary. Maybe Mary doesn’t even exist. But, regardless, that’s her story.