I’ve always loved the dark. It feels warm and welcoming. Like a mask, hiding all the stress and emotion that the daylight shows so explicitly and replacing them with a sensuous feeling. The dark reveals your true nature and abolishes the facade you play during the daytime. Yes. The dark is good. You can be yourself in the dark and not feel judged or threatened all the while by being yourself. That’s why I love the night so much. You can just relax in the blackness, surrounded by nothing but shadow. Allowing the dark to overcome your senses and numb them down until you feel nothing at all but complete weightlessness. Then, when sleep finally takes control, you are thrusted…

I don’t like it here… The room is cold and claustrophobic. The walls seem to close in on me if I look at them for too long – which is kind of hard, saying that all that consists in my room is a bed, a desk with a chair and those damned fucking four white walls. Hardly anyone ever comes in here. Anyone except the nurses, wearing those infuriatingly white uniforms (They really like that colour don’t they? It drives me mental, hurts my eyes). They stare at me as though I’ve grown an extra head and don’t even attempt at starting a conversation. All they tell me is that I’ll be in here for a while – a month,…