I opened my eyes in a crowded room
Surrounded by sights and sounds.
A lot of things had been on my mind.
I didn't talk to people around.

I hated where I was in my life.
I'd made so many mistakes.
I'd made many choices that negated my life.
I wished to have a clean slate.

I was so deep in thought that I remembered a place
A few weeks ago where I'd been.
I blinked to see that small room in which
I'd much rather not be in.

The walls were painted a deep color green;
Nothing special or grand.
Two beds sat there, side by side,
With a desk at each bed's end.

But the thing that really caught my eye
Was not the furniture's arrangement,
But instead the lonely window in the corner -
The only one that was present.

It wasn't really unique at all.
It wasn't anything new.
A long seat sat underneath its sill
That was big enough for two.

I heard the door behind me shut,
And for a moment, I froze.
I ran and banged on the solid brown wood,
But the door had still remained closed.

I slammed my fist against it again.
I let it slide slowly down.
My heart rose gradually up to my throat.
I began to have a breakdown.

I'm trapped. That one thought slowly sunk
Inside of my troubled mind.
I began to panic as I struggled for breath,
And the tears were making me blind.

Hours had passed. I sat leaned up
Against that door still closed.
My eyes slowly turned towards the corner
Where the single window was posed.

I rose to my feet, weak from the crying.
I walked to the corner of the room.
My eyes stayed firmly fixed upon
The world beyond this gloom.

I saw the sun. I saw the grass.
I saw the swaying trees.
I reached out a hand, but to my despair,
I couldn't reach out to the breeze.

I remembered this room. I'd been trapped here before.
The memory stayed with me always.
I feared the day that I might return
To this room I'd been locked in for days.

I sat down and watched the world outside
Move forward in front of me.
I saw the people who were passing by.
I saw how they were free.

I didn't blink, nor turn away.
I continued to watch and adore.
I stared in earnest - the world out there now
Had so much more value than before.

Do you know how it feels at all -
If not, does anyone?
To have your hand pressed on a window,
Yearning to feel the sun?

I blinked again. I saw my hand
Outstretched in front of me.
I stared in awe at the slender fingers,
And I realized they were free.

No window stood in front of me;
I was back in that crowded area.
The room I was trapped in had disappeared,
Taking with it my hysteria.

I slowly put my arm back down.
I looked to the left and right.
Nobody else had seemed to notice
My attempt to touch the light.

I sat down there, in the middle of the crowd.
I sat on the cold, marble floor.
And then in that moment, I saw the carpet
From the room with the locked wooden door.

I gingerly reached my hand out to brush
The strands of the blue gray rug.
I was instead met by pins and needles,
And into my hand they dug.

I snapped my hand back quickly in shock,
And fear arose in my chest.
I tried so hard to pull the pins out,
But it proved a useless quest.

My head felt dizzy, my eyesight dimmed.
I tried to stand up still.
I stumbled and found myself again
On top of the windowsill.

There was the wind. There were the trees.
They were there at my fingertips.
There was the world, its beauty, my freedom...
The thought of it filled me with bliss.

No longer could I bare the aching wish
To feel the wind on my face.
I lifted my hand, but I couldn't reach out:
The window blocked me out like a gate.

Can you even imagine how it felt to be there?
(So far, there have been none.)
To have your hand pressed on a window,
Yearning to feel the sun?

I stood back up in the middle of the crowd.
They continued to pass by.
I began to feel very alone with them;
Not one had caught my eye.

I walked onward along with the crowd,
The room still fresh in my mind.
I shook my head in vain attempt
To leave the memory behind.

I tripped and stumbled from my feet -
I hadn't been looking ahead.
But instead of hitting the hard stone floor,
I fell on the soft, low bed.

I balled the thin blanket up in my fist,
Trying not to cry.
I failed. The tears streamed down my cheeks.
I was living a double life.

I stayed at the window for quite a long time.
It slowly began to grow dark.
I rested my head up against the glass.
I felt every beat of my heart.

What is real? What is life?
I asked myself these questions.
I didn't know anything I used to before.
I'd lost all sense of expression.

Do you have the slightest idea what it's like -
Or really, does anyone?
To have your hand pressed on a window
Yearning to feel the sun?

Time goes on. Seasons change.
Children grow up fast.
Old habits come and old habits go,
But I haven't forgotten the past.

There is a day from time to time
When I flash back to that room.
That room with the desks and double twin beds
And the window alone in the gloom.

The thought still lay in the back of my mind.
I've gone through my share of strife.
But thinking it through, I've come to find
We all have our windows in life.

I have always felt alone in that room.
I'll always be, I suppose.
But we all at some point find our hands
Pressed up against those windows.

But life goes on and will not wait -
Time spent in that room you will miss.
But through all the blues, you must learn to take
Your hand off the window of Wish.