The desk is plastic, cold and dark.
The keys click as I type each word.
The music playing in the background, making me feel the feelings of others.
The feelings I can no longer create on my own.
I've become numb.
In a world that teaches us to do so as such a young age.
I sit here, trying to explain what has happened to me,
So that someone,
can try to understand.
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 4:52 PM UTC
The desk is plastic, cold and dark.
The keys click as I type each word.
The music playing in the background, making me feel the feelings of others.
The feelings I can no longer create on my own.
I've become numb.
In a world that teaches us to do so as such a young age.
I sit here, trying to explain what has happened to me,
So that someone,
can try to understand.
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