I think as these walls more and more familiar, and i can count and retrace the dimples that they obtain, as if they were scars on my body, i feel less and less like myself. The sun and moon are no different to me than water and ice. I tend to pour myself into someone else's words so that my adventures are farther and farther away from my home, into another reality, into a fictional place. I feel like these words are all too familiar because they play constantly through my head, recited over and over again. the people around me care less and less about my feelings because the same complaints flow out of my mouth. do you realize what it feels like to be inside at all times of the day? do you know what it feels like to see the same surroundings over and over again? it is not a dream, it is what you see every day. you think a couple of hours to yourself pains you? Imagine your room being the only thing you see and having no one to talk to about your friendships, your family, your relationships, and anything else you feel the need to express through a friendly conversation.

My friendships have turned into online number counts that I can contact with a click of a button. Is this what friends are? If so, I don't want them.

This conversation is the same one that i've had with others that i feel can bare the secrets that i've bestowed upon them. they tell me the same things over and over again. i hear it all constantly or i hear nothing because they are tired of my complaints.

horrible ideas flash through my head at random moments of the day. i ignore them or relate them to other people so that i find myself detaching them from myself, never claiming ownership.