Iíve lived for all my life in the most untidy place I know. There are long lost treasures in every corner, and boxes of locked away horrors sitting on top of the highest shelves. In this place there is a bed for me to dream. Next to it lies a deep pit, out of which I grab old puzzles that I gave up on, for me solve in my sleep.
There is a drawing board nailed to the wall, and with my pencil I draw sketches of things that arenít really true, while I erase the simple clear images that I want to improve.
Turned away from the messy interior, there is a chair that sits facing the window where I sit to get away from it all. While I look outside and smile, the obscure and twisted image of what is behind me is always there, faintly reflected in the window. There are desks with stacks of files and reports, containing all that I know. There are also lost files, missing pages and burnt illustrations. Knowledge that is forever lost among the chaos.
There are small and large pictures hanging from the walls, of people I think I know. Some are dusty and unclear, others I have wiped clear and clean, to make the true image show. There is a control panel standing tall and wide that I work with to change the world outside. With the push of a button I could destroy myself, or people around me. I donít even know what some buttons are for, and how they will affect me.
There are no doors in this room of emptiness that always seems so full, there is no way to get away and here I shall be at every moment, from first to last. A place of fear, but also sanctuary, in which all I see is a giant mess of thoughts and words, which will always stay a part of me. It is all I have to shape my life and change the world Iím in.
Iím stuck here forever,
but I am not blind! This place is my home and contains all I love. So why would I ever want to go out of my mind?