It’s been at least a day or two since I have left this room, I've become enraptured by the isolation surrounding my fragility.
I spend a lot of my time counting things. I count the slats in the shade covering my window, I count the pictures on my wall, I count the t-shirts on my floor, I count the scars on my hands and I even count the numbers which control the theory of counting. But most of all I count the times I wish I could have escaped.
I am enraptured by the isolation that surrounds the fragility of every tiny thing, and I am powerless to move as I could destroy all of this beauty.
I spend a lot of my time counting things. I count the slats in the shade covering my window, I count the pictures on my wall, I count the t-shirts on my floor, I count the scars on my hands and I even count the numbers which control the theory of counting. But most of all I count the times I wish I could have escaped.
I am enraptured by the isolation that surrounds the fragility of every tiny thing, and I am powerless to move as I could destroy all of this beauty.