Does it makes sense for the world to prosper? Of course not, because I see what kind of life is on it. Living in Florida is stereotyping that for me.
The worst part about it I'm stuck right in the middle. I don't live in a nice little condo where from the fifth floor I can see the waves crash in smoothly, no, I'm in a two story efficiency that only allows me the security that nobody can look though my kitchen and bathroom windows and keep the idiots out.
Nevertheless, I'm safe as long as I use my uncentered peephole and the locks on all of the windows and front door. The most important part is staying inside.
The only time I leave is when I utterly have to, whether it's run and get supplies for survival or walking to work so I can afford these supplies. I've just recently caught something that has kept me inside much more than I'd like.
The strong winds from the ocean makes my chest tight and causes me to choke on the gunk that has invaded my breathing passages so it's unnecessary to leave this apartment. I was given an extra day off to stay in bed and rest, however, the illness is still present and I'm trapped to go out into these blistering winds and suffer the consequences so I don't lose my job.
Not to mention the drunken idiots that inhabit the streets and the very outside of the building of which I'm living in will try to address me as I rush pass them. It's the same everyday. I know everyone, and because of that I am afraid to leave my doorstep. These are the words of a hermit.
As an artist, however, I have had troubles finding inspirations out here for all I'm finding is this. My apartment, my fortress. Typing out my thoughts makes me feel somewhat creative and I'm hoping to find inspiration in my writings.