I hate this house. The blank white walls mock me as I try to decorate them with meaningless poster and drawing and other clutter. The silvery grey air conditioner in the far right corner of the ceiling blows waves of cool constant air through out the dreary little room, causing a major chill down my spine and body. The only thing that has helped me keep my sanity in this small hellhole is the window on the wall.
The simple glass panel that allows me to view the outside world, which is still so very new to me. It feels like time doesn't pass in this room. I grow older and wiser yet the scene is never changing in this cell. The only indication that time goes in is the window showing rain or snow, sun or moon, even hail and fog. Right now I see all white, the wintertime is here bring cold days and even colder night, but unlike the white walls in this place the snow looks pure. Like it takes everything whether good or bad into a place of higher self.
I love the snow when it falls like this. If I could leave this room I would stay in the snow for hours and hours. Taking in the fresh winter air burning my lungs in a delightful way, felling the cool tough as snowflake stick to my no and eyelash melting. If only I could leave this room, this foreboding room. I hate this house with it white blank walls, but love the white snow ever falling down.