Those walls are sulky, it makes me sick, the clinical colors, the yellowish of the dining room fading under the moisture and the dirt, the gloomy doors of a disturbing dark brown, the tainted moquette at which one glance makes me want to spew, the dust in all the corner which i'm allergic to, but i don't care to lose my health for this shitty appartment, the wallpaper rolls down to the floor and the crumbly lamps shed a light so poor it makes me think i'm at a mortuary watch, this cave is like the inside of my being, cold, messy, ragged, maybe some hope is crouched somewhere or it's all gone with the wind blowing through the holes of this pitiful decayed room, if i contort myself enough maybe i could leak toward a definitive escape but ironically i'm too small and my perception is too vast, i'm part of this place, i'm a stain, it's here i belong, in this shabby dungeon representing my mind.
I need an escape, i want to believe i'm better than this, i need you.
(please don't think i'm egoistical, you make me feel better, i want to give, but i need to trust myself... i can't be happy alone.)
You personified your apartment. Maybe you're right the space you live in is a material representation of your mind, maybe every little corner has pieces of you because you inhabit this place...
RépondreSupprimerYour description of your room sounds so lonely, it's like the room itself is bored and getting dusty from lack of activity. The walls of your apartment protect you from the world outside, but they also prison you. You deserve better than this, you're mind can't stay locked in a small box with dim lights.
It's strange, as I read I felt I would like to hide in your place...could it be I crave the comforts that prison you?
I wish you could trust yourself...