Forgive me if I am to be a little vague.
Today I feel trapped. Trapped inside a small dark room.
It is bright outside, and yet the gloom indoors sets about an ethereal feeling of disconnection from time—as though the darkness is in itself a bubble which seclude us from reality. The small rays drifting through the small, high, open window cut through the black of the room—the only evidence of day.
I awake with a sense of isolation. The body next to mine breathes slowly—my friend. In company, but alone. The quiet is eerie and the sound of the wind lashing through the window is so soft, it barely has the right to be called a sound at all. In this profound silence, ideas rush. And to hear yourself think without distraction is truly deafening. Empty thoughts ricochet against the walls of an empty head and it is painful to listen to.