It seemed like getting up was harder than waking up. And leaving this safe haven another wrench in itself. Outside the world seemed restless. The cracks in the pavement were getting bigger, harder to avoid. But easier to see nevertheless. Thoughts flush through of wanting to run and forget it all but then not sure which way to go. When there are too many exits its hard to decide which one is best. The lesser of 2, 3, 7 evils perhaps. They were all though more appealing than the one dreamed and feared of however. Though thinking now, was it a dream or was it all just a fabrication of a long distant memory - maybe even just a memory of a book or a film, not real thoughts. Seeing the world in this early light made objects seem 2D everything seemed super real as though viewed through a lens. The collections of raindrops that now reflected the crisp, allure of the morning would soon become murky puddles of mud as too many footsteps trampled over them and the day. Still it was better than being in the empty chasm of the flat, where the dull, sometimes soothing, hum of the vent fan had mutated into a brain straining fuck of a noise that could have been used in some sort of aural torture. It needed replacing - age and time were no ones friend