I'm..

Feeling kinda shabby.

Here and now;
I sit in a room. Its cold. Its about 9x7. The room is painted black. So is every inch of my back, minus the target I always seem to miss.
So, one wall has a window. But, when I look out it I don't see outside.
I see another room.
This room is painted white.
When I look through the window I only feel more remorse.
Why?
I was there only a couple hours ago.
I wanted to stay there.
I don't know what happened- nothing happened..
But here I sit in my black room.
The white room seems so far away..
I can't remember how to get back in there..
I don't even remember how it felt to be there.
All the memories seem like photographs, ones taken by a stranger.

But- I catch a glimpse of the phone in the corner.
Its black, too. But, it kinda glows.
Its easy to reach out to.
Easy to dial the number.
I do it hastily..
You picked up.
I just don't think you could really listen.
I know you heard me.
I hate it when you hear me, kinda.
Because, no matter how clearly I come in.
I don't think you can listen...

So, I'll go back to my chair in the middle of the room.

I don't even want to try to get out anymore.
I give up on calling out.