Tears roam. They taint the atmosphere as light ominous vapor. I've cried enough for us to both be pain free. The idea of leaving this room is the catalyst of a cataclysmic brain freeze. I don't wanna be free. Anymore. I've grown find of the bond forged by time here. Everyday I'd leave to see what life has in-store for, and I'd regret every year. Too much conformity. Maybe it's too many perceptions to consider. Maybe trying so hard to acknowledge them all is making me bitter. Maybe. Who gives a fuck why? I mean, I'd rather be knocked to my doom if the only other option I'd have was to leave this room. I don't wanna go. I don't wanna leave or retrieve Any live societal stimuli. I've tried it out...life in this room is so much better than just getting by. Outside of it.