I'm awake, or at least, I think I am. I feel like I am. My whole-body aches, I've lost track of the amount of time I've been here, my limbs are pleading to be stretched. I attempt to distract myself. "Think brain, think" I tell myself. I try to focus on anything but the pins and needles rapidly spreading across my body. It's quiet here - no cars honking or people shouting. No birds that squawk so loud they tempt me to rip my ears clean off my head.

I love the world when it's quiet, although it hardly ever is. But when it is, the best thing ever is to listen, listen to the number of things the world is ignoring. Those are the most beautiful things. I close my eyes (although my surroundings look the same whether my eyes are closed or not,) and picture raindrops knocking desperately on a window. To me, the rain is the most amazing thing ever to exist. If it is one drop, it is millions, gracefully descending from a white velvet sky. It's the sort of weather that washes everything anew, repainting the earth in a new and even more glorious colour. Rain brings deep puddles in which small children splash, and in that joyous congregation of mild air and water, the very essence of nature is created. I long to hear it's rhythmical pattern as it splashes against the ground. I miss how it made traces of sweet paths against my vanilla coloured skin. If it's one thing I miss, it's the rain.

The sensation begins to crawl back into my limbs. I've been trapped here for far too long. I need to get out. I need to escape.