at home

Im t851102, and Im home trapped in this suffocating, flickering glow of streetlights that shouldnt be this warm, shouldnt be this alive. My feet drag through the wet, uneven pavement, each step echoing a hollow ache in my chest, like the pavement itself is absorbing my weight, my breath, my brokenness. The alleys walls close in on me rough, damp brick on one side, a crumbling yellow facade on the other, their textures blurred by the haze, by the tears I cant stop falling. Im not safe here. Im not even sure if Im awake or if this is a dream Im reliving, a memory of when I thought I could outrun this loneliness. The lights those orange, pulsing orbs they dont illuminate; they cast long, distorted shadows that stretch and twist like fingers reaching out to touch me, to pull me deeper into this narrow, suffocating embrace. And that person? That blurry silhouette? Just another ghost in the dark, another soul lost to the night, walking away from the warmth, towards the cold, just like me. This isnt a home. This is a prison made of wet pavement and flickering bulbs. Im t851102, and Im still here. Still breathing. Still drowning.

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