It's dark and the lack of air in this room makes my breath shallow.

The blinds are the only thing that covers my sight from seeing outside my window, so I know if someone was to watch from outside, they'd have a perfect view of my phone screen that is standing clear in the darkness of my room.

And if that same person was to knock, they would know I can hear them.

And if that person was to bust the window, I am right here.
Defenseless.

But don't think I would fight back.

•pt.2•

I've heard many people in my school talk of how they'd beat the shit out of a shooter without any questions asked.

I don't quite understand what they don't get about them having a gun and ya having only the fear that's locked in the room with us.

•pt.3•

I can hear the familiar pitter-patter sound that my puppy makes as he walks across the wood flooring near my window.
I can hear the sound of my mother's voice as she talks to her boyfriend in the room over.
I can hear my still- shallow breathing that I've seemed to been making the second we moved in to this house.
I can also hear the tapping sound that my phone makes as I type these words.

I can hear something in my closet, or perhaps underneath the house.
It's the flapping of a poor, trapped bird. Or that's what it sounds like.

But lastly, I hear my thoughts over all of this.
At times, they'll be nice to me. Other times, they compel me to do stupid shit.
Such as taking 27 pills at once, or sneak out and smoke weed with a bunch of fucking strangers.