 You can check out any time you like was written by Basir Skip Reader. You can find it on the scp wiki in a link in the description. It is under a Creative Commons share like attribution 3.0 license. Hopping between purgatories in our world is a dangerous procedure. Remember your ABCDs. Always be checking death. The Beginner's Guide to Purgatories. Written on a pamphlet somewhere on a floor. Tick tock. Tick tock. The wristwatch keeps ticking as I walk to another normally lit hallway with rows and rows of doors. I open the first door I see and once again the room is empty. It's rare for one of these rooms to be filled. Usually it's just filled with air. Or nothing. Most of the time it's filled with air and nothing. A normal smell of normal smothering the air around me. I swab the normal carpet floor with my finger and once again the normal amount of dust accumulates on my finger. Exploring this purgatory has been nothing but extremely boring. To be fair most purgatories are boring but this one was especially boring. I mean even in boring purgatories the boringness is cancelled out by a thing happening. Like an unknown being approaching you at relativistically slow but sure speeds or meeting a librarian who is somehow lost her way. For the eternity I have spent here everything seems normal. I open a door and this one's full of a stench. A distinctly non-boring thing so far inside where piles and piles of desiccated bodies sitting in an orderly fashion with various pieces of clothing surrounding their bodies. Raining from old robes to futuristic somethings. I quickly close the door and walk away. This was the only door with those bodies I think and I hope I don't see those ever again. Open another door and it's full of bodies again. This time all compressed into one block of desiccated flesh that spans from the center to the edge. The past 10 meats I have eaten leave my stomach and I don't eat for another 10 rooms. I look at my wristwatch. It reads 0300, 3 hours after I shifted into this space. I stare at the wristwatch as a second hand passes by the minute hand. I grab the needle and stab myself. I wince in pain as blood flows and crusts around the wound. When not in danger periodically check whether you are. If you really really really aren't in danger return to our world. You've stayed there for too long. A phrase inscribed in a wall somewhere. A phrase inscribed on a wall somewhere. I play with the barrel of my revolver as I check each door along the hallway. You're not supposed to do that but exploring endless rooms and hallways gets boring too. The normal hum that was always present in the air keeps humming as I open the door. Check inside, swab the floor and get food or water samples if the room has them. I repeat for an infinite amount of rooms and I can't help but wish for something dangerous right around the corner. But every single time I turn a corner into another hallway filled with more god damned endless doors with the same god damned contents. I can't help but wonder what god is so cruel that will construct a whole plane like this for its creations and why did this even have to space back in. I don't know what just happened but I continue walking a little faster than before. I open another normal room with normal air and normal floors and I feel dead inside. I measure the size of the room with my pinky and I notice that the room is around 20 pinkies long and 20 pinkies wide. I go to the next room, measure the size of the room and to my utter and bewildering disappointment discover that the room is to 20 by 50 pinkies. I move on. The next door I opened had bodies in it, this time small. I quickly close it and run off to the next door, a water room with another body under the table occupying the room from end to end with a stench of death. Again, I didn't need anything for the next 10 rooms or 20 rooms this time. I've been wondering for so long I've lost track of how many doors I've entered. To stop that, I smear a bit of blood on the next door I come across. I do that for every door now. I look at my wristwatch 0700, second hand passing by the hour hand. I grab a new needle. I stab myself and I stare as the blood flows freely from my finger. My fingers feel numb. The muscles inside my mouth feel foreign. I try to cut it out but I'm reminded of its name tongue tongue tongue. I stop as the blade touches my tongue and then I move on. The department of purgatorial spaces is not responsible for the loss of body parts, bodily autonomy, heart flesh, and any other parts that are physically embedded in yourself as is covered under section S450 clause 5HU4 however, loss of faith, memory, soul, etc. during and or after an exploration of a purgatorial space will be compensated as noted in the foundation health policy. See section 415K for more details. Foundation contract to researchers. Section 4P19 clause BEL1 In this purgatorial space, each room consists of 20 by 50 pinkies. Each room has a normal amount of air. In every three rooms, you get a table at the center containing a glass of water. Sometimes there's a body underneath the table. Sometimes there isn't, I think. This glass of water has a slightly nutty taste and it is enough to keep you hydrated. Every seven rooms you get a room with a table at the center containing a plant of unknown desiccated meat. It's salty and boring although I am thankful that I can still taste salt or at least I think it's salt. There are no bodies around the meat strangely enough. Shifting into purgatorial space always comes with risks. Sometimes it's just an endless hole that you fall into. And you have no choice but to shift right back. One time I shifted into the classic white void type space but the floors were screaming. That's why I have the earplugs. Most of the time, the space itself has a decided peacefulness to it. Where you can easily forget all your troubles with numbness and boredom. I would describe it as being blackout drunk, except without the liver damage. The fluorescent light keeps on humming louder than before I think. My arm feels heavy, my ears are ringing, my brain is foggy. And after an eternity, performing the same motions of checking rooms, swabbing floors, drinking drinks, and eating foods, I momentarily glance at my wrists and I see a spot of red. I force myself to stare at it. It is a wristwatch. My wristwatch. It's 1100. But the background is a deep deep bright blood red. I calmly rush to grab the knife and bowl from my backpack and peacefully start chopping away at the body parts that I cannot feel while serenely and frenziedly reciting a purging spell. I hear a crack as I try to composedly cut through a bone. The bone was placed by my arm inside the bowl with a white circle with an unknown and weird symbol that was drawn by my other stump under the bowl. I unhurriedly recall a short phrase and I close my eyes and pray to God, whatever God created this hellhole that my offering is enough, my mind opens to the same hallways with multiple people in it. The same bodies I've seen throughout my journey. A light shines at the end and I walk forward, opening each door, receiving each morsel of food they offer and every time I eat I remember things. My name, my age, who I work for, what I do. At the end of the hallway, a grand banquet, a table filled with delicious leaves and sweet flowers of all tastes and colors. I sit at the head of the table, calling each person around to give me more and I die. I'm one of the people offering myself food and I die again. I'm one of the servants giving myself food and I die again. I am the hallway, feeling the thousands of lives and feet trampling underneath me and I die. I'm one of the flowers, a lotus. I slide down the throat of me on and on and on it goes until I am both one and many, part of everything. One with everything and everyone is one with me. It might be too late, it might be too early. Whatever I am currently feeling right now, I am certainly ascending to Elysium. Myself suddenly plunges into the deepest, coldest parts of the universe. A throbbing, crushing pain smothers me as I feel a deep, deep pressure compress me. I feel pain as my whole being is described in a short word, an infinitesimally small length of time and space as I think what is supposed to be parts of me come out of my being. I remember what they're called, arms, legs, head. I try to break out of these constraints to no avail. All these experiences, all these feelings, all compressed into this insufficient shell of a being. I feel this small shell, this weak mortal shell burst and bleed and break and then be born again On and on it repeats, a never ending symphony of pain and suffering as I am forced to be alone in the universe once more until I reopen my eyes and I'm in front of a door with the foundation logo. I scream, I cry, I beg to be sent back. Thank you very much for watching. If you enjoyed the video, hit the subscribe button, then hit the notification bell next to that so you're notified when I upload new videos, and then head on over to patreon.com forward slash decimerian and pledge at any level like everybody here on the screen already has, including Sinjeriki who was pledged at $100. It's nice to know that I'm not alone here, and I will see you all again on Tuesday.