You lock the door from the inside. You don't feel any safer. Nobody would break in. The threat doesn't come from the outside. It doesn't come from the inside either. The outside is a shell. These walls are a shell too.
Escaping to a shell to find solace, but finding only walls and stale to-go containers, empty bottles. Same old. Feeling trapped. Feeling trapped. Fee l i n g t r a p p e d .
Leaving is always an option, but where to go. You have all the freedom. Nobody ever takes your freedom. Nobody tells you what to do. You have all the possibilities. Everything is your choice. Everything was always your choice. That bitter taste, it is your choice. That mistake, that was your choice. Being locked inside, that is your choice. You chose to look at those walls. You are free to stay. You are free. Free to stay locked inside. Or to go nowhere.
On the wall you see your old dreams, the oldest framed, the newer ones just stuck there with tape. All so out of reach. Out of reach. Your choice. Why don't you follow your dreams? You trip over a pile of clothes, you don't bother to get up. Your dreams collapse.
You're on the floor by your choice. You stare at the ceiling. You never changed the light bulb. It shines dimmly at the walls. You stretch out to reach it. Your hand throws shadows at your face. Your choices expand. Bright. Dark. Shadows. The cracks in the walls start to move.
You feel as if a dream was about to start. A dre a m y o u c a n c h o o s e .

You wake up. Missed calls from unknown numbers. No replies to your messages. You turn your phone off again. You can choose to try again. You can choose.