窓

僕の名前は何だったろう。
Being at home, confined inside my cold, dim room.
Gazing onto this interchangeable window we call monitor.
Mirror to my left, a reflection that I want to ignore.

It is silent.
Very silent.

I can't shake off this heavy feeling from my chest. It feels like I have lost someone as well.

My name doesn't matter now. Only my intention and emotion count now. Those words that you said, it was as if it was me that said that.

Syncing other people's emotions to our own. Feeling their sorrow like it is ours. A tragedy strikes and everyone is one in mourning.

I know. It wasn't me who has lost someone. These tears are not for someone I was close to. For this moment, I am rewriting my name into someone else's, and putting on a mask that is not mine.

Walking up the stairs, I don't even see anyone here with me.
There are eight doors, and one is wide open. An abandoned kitchen that now propagates my fear of the dark
Another two are places to cleanse me.
Three that leads me to different worlds.
One that leads to my own world.
The last one is for me to go back.

Opening the door to my world. Outside my window is a white wall. Another window about a meter away from mine. It's approaching night time, and the sky is dyed in purple.

My words are swallowed by the evening, and I know that I needed release. I have to pour everything out right now, or I risk of returning back to the point I had left before.

And so this piece of writing came to being. Do I feel much better now? I don't know. At least, I can breathe easier now.