I shut out the world because there's another one spinning in my head. Two worlds do not make a right. I have to choose which world I will inhabit. The one inside is full of empty spaces and traces of people stranded in my memory. Their faces appear here and there, but I've become remarkably good at looking away. So you say your world has mountains and oceans and forests? Mine is comprised of filing cabinets and drawers. I receive, create, recall. You create, react, crawl. Who has it better? It's a draw.
But sometimes I find myself constructing rocket ships out of old cardboard hidden behind the filing cabinets. It's a cardboard ticket out of here, a passport to different planets. Is there time to turn the ship around, time to plan a different course? Of course I have my hangups. I have my ghosts that live on the coasts of oceans that do not exist. What am I willing to discard? Who am I willing to abandon?
At night I close my eyes and stare at the sky I've set up. Where do the stars start and where do they end? For now it's still a blank canvas. For now I hoard my cardboard for something better. For now I shut my blinds and wait.