I can’t see past these walls. My mind is stretching with shadows and the outside world haunts me. It’s messy. It’s frantic. It’s blinding. Now I’m writing everything in brail because I feel too much anyways. I’ll read with my hands and make a masterpiece out of it because I’m tired of seeing things that I don’t believe in. It feels like saying goodbye to a memory that you swore would stick with you like a grudge until it actually turned into one. Now you resent it. You loath it. You lost it. You let it blind you until you fell. Crawling with palms that used to carry the things you swore to hold onto, but never did. Laying in your old bedroom in your old clothes on an old mattress. Let the stale scent choke you- you wouldn’t feel it because you can’t breath anyways. You’re already a ghost. Let the walls swallow you. Feel everything at once until you’re perfectly numb. -AMT