Day after day, I stubbornly shut myself inside this cramped room, as if that could keep the outside world at bay. But no matter how hard I tried, the silence around me never brought me any peace. The wind outside howled in gusts, like some distant call, or like a reminder that out there, the world was still turning — I just no longer belonged to it.
The bottles kept piling up, but I stopped remembering where each one came from or where it went. They stood around like silent witnesses, watching over my daily descent into numbness and decay. Sometimes the alcohol brought a brief haze, letting me escape into a moment of oblivion — but when I woke, it was still the same empty room, the same life with no one visiting.
Sometimes, in my dreams, I saw the people I used to know. In the dream they were still vivid, still carrying the warmth and care I once had from them. But when I woke, they too faded away at the edges of my memory, just like before. So even my dreams became a torment — reminding me that the things I've lost are never coming back.
I know that maybe if I just opened the door a crack, everything would change. But a nameless dread holds me fast, like an invisible wall. I'm afraid the outside world no longer wants me, afraid the people I was once close to have become strangers to me, afraid I've lost the ability to rejoin all that noise and bustle.
So I choose to stay hidden here, letting the dust pile up in the corners, letting loneliness spread like vines inside my heart. No one will knock on my door anymore, and no one will remember that in this room, there was once a trace of me. In the end, maybe I'll be buried by this dust — along with my regrets and all the goodbyes I never said.
Day 226 of 2024
Day after day, I stubbornly shut myself inside this cramped room, as if that could keep the outside world at bay. But no matter how hard I tried, the silence around me never brought me any peace. The wind outside howled in gusts, like some distant call, or like a reminder that out there, the world was still turning — I just no longer belonged to it.
The bottles kept piling up, but I stopped remembering where each one came from or where it went. They stood around like silent witnesses, watching over my daily descent into numbness and decay. Sometimes the alcohol brought a brief haze, letting me escape into a moment of oblivion — but when I woke, it was still the same empty room, the same life with no one visiting.
Sometimes, in my dreams, I saw the people I used to know. In the dream they were still vivid, still carrying the warmth and care I once had from them. But when I woke, they too faded away at the edges of my memory, just like before. So even my dreams became a torment — reminding me that the things I've lost are never coming back.
I know that maybe if I just opened the door a crack, everything would change. But a nameless dread holds me fast, like an invisible wall. I'm afraid the outside world no longer wants me, afraid the people I was once close to have become strangers to me, afraid I've lost the ability to rejoin all that noise and bustle.
So I choose to stay hidden here, letting the dust pile up in the corners, letting loneliness spread like vines inside my heart. No one will knock on my door anymore, and no one will remember that in this room, there was once a trace of me. In the end, maybe I'll be buried by this dust — along with my regrets and all the goodbyes I never said.