This spot right here is where my bed used to be.
I would lay there and watch the seasons change through the open window.
The rest of the room was mostly empty, just like I was.
And now it's filled with meaningless furniture, sticking out and in the way.
Something eats me alive everytime I come up here.
And I don't know what else to say other than
I don't belong. But I can't leave.
Not yet.
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