there's no place like home

the sewing machine and the girl had worked together and created something completely different.
the girl smiled, the sewing machine hummed.
this was the beginning.
this was the end.


(L)





I get trapped inside my head sometimes. It's hard for me to get out of here and back into the world, my thoughts can be mean, but they're never cold or windy. I can forget about the outside world and just spend days upon days walking around inside my head in a warm little bubble. I like it in here, it's safe and there's no annoying people.
I sit in my head and we talk and we muse and we contemplate. We both forget about the world that exists outside. Sometimes I allow visitors, it's always a little uncomfortable though, watching them walk carelessly through my rubble walls, touching my erratic mess. We whisper mean things about them, but only very quietly.
I worry about how much time I could spend here if the world didn't always insist on getting in the way at some point, I like it in here, we like it in here.

I prefer my bubble.
I prefer this world.










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