The glass walls shield me away from a world contradicting the one in my journals. My experience is limited through generations of filters designed to rid me of challenge and deprive me of ambition. They have prevented my escape with their attentive care. When I step outside my throat closes at the smell of flowers, eyes water when its sunny, legs tense up inclinations. I could burn myself inside of this townhouse and I'd still be freezing. The uncomfortable is as foreign to me as the tops of trees. I am only exercised out of obligation to the billboard queens and anticipation of physical intimacy. I breathe out of habit. Fresh air tastes like money. I can't walk outside when it's raining, for fear it washes away my face. I am sanitized until numb. Educated until dumb. Holding my breath so I fall out of consciousness and into a blanket of stars. Each of them brighter than ours. Meant to remind me of the sky hiding behind my glass walls. Neither waiting for, nor needing me. Simply having the autonomy to be.