Time is now a story told by others. You envy them, their freedom, their hope. Your existence is tied to this place, the beating heart of your tragedy and pain, your prison. You wander these long corridors and some days, it becomes difficult to tell where this dreadful house ends and you begin. You cry and destroy to remind yourself that you're still here. It's been so long since you gave up on anyone seeing you. The only company you keep is your past, and oh how it follows you. You scream once more, a final test of your disappearance but— Oh! Did... did they just look at you?

Well fuck...