justapassingglance
The walls in here were lifeless, but I changed that. What better way to breathe life into them than with the very thing that kept my own heart beating? I would re-open the wounds every day, even when the nurses strapped my arms to my back. I would paint a memory of the outside in rust-red, even after the man came in to wash the walls clean. They couldn't stop me from making my cell beautiful, hurting myself to do it, and that terrified them.
Just once and it's gone, passed like a note, but a picture. Then you sit before a blank screen like you're waiting for more. Each flash flies to the back of your mind; you move on.