chris (madmanofprague) wrote,

I'm cleaning my room. Shit gets shovelled from place to place until I can see the floor, but as much as I dig I can't find the trapdoor to escape. Self-loathing piles up as each minute of doing nothing accumulates on the clock. Minutes to hours to days, and nothing is accomplished even as the sun is lost and I think, "Wasn't it night yesterday? Is it ever not?"

I am trapped in a world of eternal night.

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