May 10
It was not just a drawing of a window. It was a confession.
Outside waited “the hood,” but even that felt safer than the walls surrounding me.
What stayed with me was not only the room itself, but the feeling of being trapped inside it.
The window remained locked, making freedom visible yet unreachable. I needed the sun’s permission to leave.
Even with free will, I could not “just leave.”
If I could go back and change a thing, would I? No; because if I had, I would not have gotten this far.
“Don’t change a thing.” I cannot dwell on the past anymore.
That being said, those words now belong to the past.