I am going crazy; tired of seeing the four corners of this room that has now become my prison. It has been my home for the past three years. The butter cream walls of the room, now faded from time and marked by stains here and there, taunt me with each waking moment I find myself in the room. And the room, my room, has only three doors; one opening to the kitchen, another the bathroom and the last outside.

Mostly I am inside, because the outside world now holds little appeal to me and when I’m inside I am tormented by everything around me. When I am not being tormented, I’m either reading a book, watching a movie or sleeping. But that’s how far my routine goes, some days when I’m not doing any of those, I’m writing. My room has two windows, one by my bed and the other by the door that leads outside but I don’t bother with the latter.

Right now, I’m gazing out my window, tired of facing the walls and enduring their taunts and torments, but there’s not much of a view ahead. The burglar-proof on my window only makes the prison-perception of my room come to life. Outside my window, there are tall trees of green dusted in brown particles crowding my vision and if I strain a bit, I can see the road and people going up and about their daily activities. The sounds coming from the vehicles and motorcycles passing by have become an unwanted music to my ears and their honks make me want to carve out my ears. I just stare and stare out the window for what seems an eternity, my head leaning on it a bit and my left hand making careless but gentle motions up and down the burglar-proof.

With a loud sigh I get up from my bed and walk towards my table, in three long strides I was there already. I pulled out my chair and took a seat at the table that houses my laptop, a couple of books I own, a lamp, a pen and a marker, all painfully organized in a clinical manner.

I open my laptop and turn it on, ready to immerse myself in another world where there was action and life, a world where I mattered a lot because I made things happen, I had the power to change what I didn’t like and I also had the power to make things better. The world many consider myths and others legends, but nonetheless, was as real as real could be. It is a world full of….

To be continued…

P.S: I know it’s a really short post, but the continuation will be up soon in my next post. Again, thank you all for staying with me and reading through. Lots of love 🖤

P.P.S: If this is your first time going through my blog, welcome! Kindly check through other posts as well. 🖤🖤