Author's Note

Right, finally a rewrite.

Thanks for everyone that is still supporting me to this day, let alone friends or family from the internet or from my neighbourhood.

You guys are badass awesome.

In This Little Space Of Mine

The sun blinds my vision, and for the fifth time now I flinch.

I awoke with a start, suddenly waking up with nothing but a sense of danger and pain, not to mention the sudden feeling of anxiousness. My head throbs here and there at times, ringing a loud echo, faintly killing the sound of the birds chirping outside. My arms feel like they’ve been burned to a crisp, with burns and blisters here and there all over it.

I open my eyes, which to my surprise, took a lot more effort than I thought, and checked my surroundings. I’m in a large cubed shaped room, glistering bright with white painted all over the walls. I’m dressed in a not so fashionable, soft and cozy white shirt topped off with pants that’s both overfit. I lie upon a bed, with the sheets smelling the scent of roses and dandelions, it’s fabric comforting and heavenly.

To my right, locates a round, wooden table, fit and carved for the most proffered occasion. Quite the disarray of situations, there. Placed on top is an unopened water bottle with a ceramic cup placed downside up. A wooden chair is available right next to it.

To my left, locates a big window, probably fit enough for a full grown man to jump out of, the sun blinding me constantly with it’s fiery blaze. Either I squint my eyes - which I lost count amount of- or let the rays burn my eyes, and no, fuck that.

For once, I took a big and long glance at my body. I try to raise my arms, but they fall short for moving. Instead, I move my eyes towards, suddenly widening at the vision. Both of my arms are wrapped in thick white cloth, probably lap over lap placed on to it. My legs are no exception either. They both feel heavy in my case, and I can’t raise them too, either that I’m exhausted or my ligaments are broken.

I sit up, trying to figure out what the hell is happening. For what I know, as of now, I’m in a room with no memory of how I got here. No recollection could I forth out. They’re all gone.

My vision begins to feel a bit blurry, the surrounding area suddenly dissipating from my point of view. At first, I didn’t realize it, but now I do.

The drips of water coming out of my eyes begin to pour down, like miniature rain.

I keep on crying. Keep on sobbing.

Keep on weeping.

But my expression remains the same.

It stayed that way.