ever so gradually emptying the spaces
reserved in my room for all my belongings
trying my best to avoid wondering of places
reserved in my head for endless longings
i feel like i'm not even here
i feel like i've drifted sideways
i'm lost in a different dimension
i am an extension of my real self
i'm clawing at the walls of reality
parallel to those visible to my own short sight
my body is just floating, defiant of gravity
a white noise has entered my ears and it won't leave
it's too loud, it's filling the quiet,
a film covers everything in sight, i can't breathe

If you're lucky you'll get 36,501. 
But who knows, maybe it will be 23,890.
Or maybe you will only get 9,855.
Days, that is. Days to be alive. 
It really doesn't seem like much, not when you break the years up.