In this place

I don't know where I am. I don't even know who I am. All I know is I woke up in this place, and I can't remember anything. Nothing, at all. So do you know who I am? I don't know where I am from. I don't know anyone, or anything.

This place I am in right now, it's a room. Painted white. Everything is white, almost. There's two cameras on the ceiling, one on two far corners of the rooms setup so that whoever is observing me can see everything I do.

There's three doors in this room. Two labeled A and B, and another is for stuff I need to sustain living, such as doing my thing and taking a bath. Food is delivered through this opening on the wall, of which is double sealed. Other than this computer, I have a bed, a side table with a pen and paper on it, and this plain chair and desk where is computer is on.

When I woke up, a note was written on the paper. It said, I should use the provided email (number45459@gmail.com) for communications and this blog to write my experiences. It says I need to so that I can remember.

But then, I can't remember. I know particular things, it's like I already know them, however, particular memories such as who I am or anything about my identity is gone. Almost like selective amnesia, or should I say selective memory wipe? I know they would be reading this blog post, and if they are, I don't know if this post won't be edited or would be left as it is as I wrote it.

I tried visiting other websites I could think of from the top of my head, however, I can't access them. They seem to be blocked. There's only two particular websites I can actually open, that is gmail, for communication, and blogger, which is where I am writting this post.

Oh, and also, there's a giant ticker right above the computer. It's still not active, but I suppose it will be used to show me instructions or messages as needed.

That will be all for now. I'll post something if I remember anything or anything comes up.