Sometimes life feels like an empty room. A room which is big enough to wander around all by myself with a big enough window that lets me see everything outside. Everything that’s happening, all the people outside, having a good time, talking, laughing, socializing with each other, everything is outside, right outside the window. But there’s no way to get there. It’s just a window. It’s designed to look through, not get through it. Perhaps those people outside have their own empty rooms, too? Who knows. Who cares. It’s my room. My view outside the window. My feelings. My lack of everything that’s not inside.