Trapped Inside

Three-hundred sixty-five days, but I actually stopped counting. I cannot argue with those who remind me how good I have it. I have a window, a companion, technology, financial resources available, and toilet paper stacked in towers to display my good fortune

I’m in introvert heaven.

“Paradise,” they say!

Who they you say, the Voices In My Head, say.

One million fifty-one thousand two-hundred minutes, but I actually stopped counting time and rolls of toilet paper a long, long time ago.

Only if I could see the enemy, they say it is not alive, who they, to many to name.