It's dark in here, in this place I call home. A fortress I cannot escape. The walls seem to close in tighter each day, pressing against the fragile edges of my sanity. Sometimes, a glimmer of hope flickers, a fragile light teasing the corners of my despair. But it always slips away, like this place was crafted to torment me with illusions of salvation. I lose the thread of time, where the days dissolve into nights, and the nights blur into dim city lights. I chase what they call work, but to me, it’s slavery in a society I never chose to belong to. My true home is elsewhere, in the stillness of redwood scented forests, where the salt-kissed breeze carries whispers of freedom. I dream of the open seas, of what lies beyond the horizon’s edge. Yet this dark place, my so called home, is not made of stone or wood. It is my mind, untamed and consuming. I am not alone here. There are voices, entities I do not know, guiding me back to the ocean, to the mystery of the unknown. As the waves crash and the moonlight spills its glow,a single thought persists... "I should just let go". Step by step into the waters, until I am weightless, restless, lost in the vast embrace of the sea. To be swallowed whole, or carried to a world where I can finally rest. These thoughts come often, but still, I remain. Here, I endure, bound to this quiet suffering, playing this game we call life. We must carry on, we must!