At times is difficult. Lately, all of the times. Burdens you can't call burdens, people you only maybe can call friends, traumas to carry on our shoulders and scars I carry in my wrists. Loss of purpose, lost in time, lost in space. Several hours I just feel locked, incarcerated, at my own house - and worse, my own thoughts. They're dangerous, my thoughts. They rarely work in my favour, or wish me the best or make me feel good. It's often the opposite. It's very dark, inside my mind.

But you know, sometimes, even stuck in the dark, even with the lights of the bedroom off, something, or someone reminds you

to open the window.

• Turn the key, it's sunny outside.