Storygraph

 

 I have a hole that fills my darkness, is a small window but is there. Sometimes, mostly when i wake up the window is closed and i feel trapped like in a solitary cell, the air runs out in every breathing, shrinking the room even more making the walls getting closer and closer until the point i can not move. I stamp my hands over the rugged bricks trying to push them away, my nails are rakes scratching and my nostrils are steaming (did i mention i am claustrophobic?) and everything goes blurry in a blink of an eye and when i thought i could not think, when i thought that was my last breath and i thought i was not going to say another "and" ("and" maybe that was for the best) i see the window. It is miles away, it is still small, but i see it and that was enough at the moment (like enough is a word i commonly use) even though it felt like it was in another room the light heated my skin, a gust came in and went straight to my mouth. I swear (and i never swear, but never say never they say (who are they anyway) and i hear) it was like i had a thousand mints, my Edward-sissorhands became feathers, the bricks were velvety and my eyes only could see that hole that was a whole, a small window that fills my darkness.

Inside the fort of Golden Gate bridge, San Francisco, U.S.