Watching Through the Window

I’ve lived a million lives in simulations.

From the same chair.

Looking out of the same window.

Entire realities constructed of nothing but pure thought.

My body carrying the emotional weight of a lifetime’s worth of rehearsing catastrophe during every waking moment.

There’s a feeling that builds gradually the longer you sit in stagnation.

It brought frustration.

It brought fear.

For a long time, I numbed it.

Locked away in a folder, filed “absolutely not’.

My hair thinned.

My waist grew.

I sat in the same chair.

Looking out the same window.

Flickers of fight would rise.

There would be more simulations.

I stayed in that same chair, safe.

Watching life through the window.

Fight started to burn like fire.

For a moment, I would step outside.

Exposed.

Unsafe.

Too alive.

The simulations could become reality.

I closed the door again.

I numbed harder.

I refiled it under “avoid at all costs”.

I softened into the chair.

I found comfort in the window.

Then slowly, fire grew again.

Louder this time.

I stepped outside once more.

Fear.

Panic.

Noise.

And then -

Sunlight.

My body softened.

I felt my breath rise and fall.

I closed the door again.

The chair had hardened.

The window looked murky.

The comfort became unbearable.

I’ve lived a million lives in simulations.

From the same chair.

Looking out of the same window.

I wonder what happens if I choose to stay outisde.

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