The home of my mind
Dear webkin, How are you faring in this digital city? After over fifteen years of living in this bleak corner, among the walking dead, I remain an outsider. A transient with neither a shadow to boast of nor possession to uphold my dignity. I am a disposable asset that was given an ID. ✔ Education is stolen learning. ✔ Labor is oppressive of work. ✔ Privacy is an inside joke. ✔ Home is unwelcome. My temporary shelter is comfort in the form of a prison cell. In my sleeplessness, I dream of somebody to take me to their home planet. After all, nothing in my skin could prove I am worthy of a place in this vanity box they call "home". ✔ My home lives elsewhere . Literally ❝ Lila