She lives for the moments out of the blackness of her room. Moments when she is let out. Even if it is just to dance.

She often imagines the life before this colorless box of a room. Before the solitary sameness of every day.

A life of choice and time biking through the city in a sundress. Bare feet paddling on while smiling and grinning to the people walking along sidewalks in shorts and short shirts.

How the parks where full of young people sitting in circles, talking and listening to music. Playing games. Laughing. Cheering each other on. Throwing their hands up in the air when missing their mark. The woodden stick missed by an inch.

All these moments captured while biking past them on a hot summer day. The dress yellow and dotted. The hair loose and ruffled from spending the night with him.

Again.

Leaving as the one on top. The one needing the other less. The other left hungry for more. Slightly uneased. Unsure of their situation.

Being happy she was not the hungry one.

Life felt warm and happy. And so bright. Sun shining from a blue sky. How the shadow formed from rays touching the trees in the park.

Two girls shaking from laughing while walking next to each other as they crossed the park. Waving at a group of friends. Possible some boys they like.

All the little moments that she saw from the rush of her bike.

These are the moments she relived from the depth of the darkness in her room.

Not cold, nor warm. Less like a room at all. No windows or doors to open or close. No wind moving through the air around her. Instead it all stood still. As if time wasn't real in this room.

A blackness so thick it made reality disappear. She might as well be swimming in the depth of an ocean. Or gliding through the universe.

But even then, she would be surrounded by fish or a sort of life in the sea. fluorescent bugs or large octopuses. Or in space there would be stars. And stardust. The occasional comet or asteroid. Or a blinking sattelite would pass her.

She would see life in the depth of the ocean, or experience things out there in space.

She would see human innovation. Space stations with large space telescopes showing us what is out there in the great beyond even further into space. A blackness, but with moons and stars and the burning soon.

Here, there was nothing.

Not even a stir in the air.

A sort of prison that would be horrid, if at all it felt like it existed. Like she existed.

It left no hope.

But then the lid would be lifted. She would be blinded from the light. She would be deafened by the tiniest sounds.

A sort of temporary hearing loss from coming into existence again.

One or more objects would show themselves below her. Shiny artefacts that someone loved. That would feel the warmth of someone. Be close to someone.

Be part of the world somehow.

Move past things and people, see colours and hear birds churping.

Like biking down a summer street while passing people living through small moments in the blossoming park.

They would go out into the world.

But she would be stuck.

Forever turning and turning, being blinded and deafened. Only to return in the darkness of the box once more.