I spent the day just staring into the window, at least what could I see, how many pillows I could put underneath, I saw the cloud whizzing by in a weird maniac horse formation until they mutated into hearts, ponies, rainbows and guns. I added the guns bit for banality and I won.
Bang bang parade.
I sat up and saw a bit of the opposite buildings. It wasn’t a hospital. I wondered how could those people even live there, opening their curtains to peek into dying windows filled, reeking with death. What was it like to greet the sunshine with mortality hinting itself, peeking out?
It felt like slow suicide, actually. I sat up. I wrapped my covers around me, as I had several minutes before more wires would be shot in my body. I could have gone barefoot up to the window, but I didn’t, I’d just greet something which I didn’t want and crossed out of my mind faster than expected.
I shoelace my Converse, the wires out, blood soaking the mental fabric, the skin pierced, I can put rings through, feeling the familiar touch that brought the emotion when you take off those dreadful winter snowflakes from the ground and watch grass grow in a unrealistic babyish green and you put on that awaited pair of footwear.
Only now I had no spring. I was stuck in some sort of never ending and last winter as I headed up to the mirror.
I saw people stretch out on the bottom. I was staring at them from above, literally and not.
Day Twenty
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