I lie here wondering why I feel lonely. In this room, I have everything I need and want, yet I feel cold. The heat is on, and the air flows with a fiery passion, yet I am still cold. I am bound to this small bed surrounded by several machines and flowers—things that keep me alive, but all they do is remind me of my condition and inability to be free. There is only one window in the room, which is mounted on a wall to the right of me in this cold, white room.  The window stares at me with its mouth agape, taunting me with the vision of freedom. Through its mouth, I watch kids dance, adults read, and birds glide. Two birds flying together as they dance around one another as if they were partners; I watch them as they mock me unknowingly.

 I sit inside, slowly dissolving like snow melting on a sunny day. I am bound to this room by the invisible chains of fate, as I cannot move nor cry, yet I watch all of them play as if they are mocking the worthless and cold doll stuck inside on this clear day. My cries against my fate trail through the silent void, and my friends online pretend that my panic is only dark humor. The only thing that I have ever seen is this window, my only window, a window that taunts me and ridicules my existence. Everything I have ever truly wanted dances freely outside while I remain tied to this bed, only alive because of the beeps these towering machines make as they drain and pump what little blood I have left.

Today is the day this all changes. I lift my shriveled-up body off the bed, only to fall and slam the ground without making a sound, as I am lighter than a feather at this point. I desperately crawl towards the window with my scrawny body, which lacks any signs of health or life, as I am a husk, wearing only skin and bones. As I thrust my decaying body forward, a trail of crimson blood follows my every move, acting as a reminder of my actions and a guide to the despairing life that has suddenly been shattered because of my foolish actions.  Slower than a snail, I arrive before the window resting high above where my arms reach.

I turn on my back with a heavy sigh. A sigh, somehow without disdain or despair, a sigh of acceptance.  I try to laugh, yet I cough repeatedly as sirens start to go off. I stare up at the white tiled ceiling that was once a cage but is now a room, lamenting my pathetic life surrounded by the blood that has abandoned me, as my parent did to me. Family members burst into the room, trying to lift my body and talk to me. My father burst in last, trying to get to me. His face still seemed full of life, but his eyes seemed deader than winter as they slowly began to drown and pour down all the different parts of his face. It's funny how this is all I wanted, but I can’t seem to respond or speak. My vision crumbles as I look at the window one last time. It’s just a window and nothing more. A dream that was a lie in the end. However, it could be that my eyes deceived me all this time, as I dreamed of a day we could sit beside the window watching the birds fly again.