Curate, connect, and discover
Eyes are like the windows to the mind.
Everything is dark under here.
My eyes hurt so much. So much that I can't even feel them.
My eyelids feel weird. I'm not sure how to describe it.
Something feels hollow.
My lungs hurt as I hack up, the dust already in my lungs. My back laying on something soft, but overwhelming.
It smells like earth in here, but just dry and forgotten about.
I need to get out.
I try getting up, but my spine lets out a pained protest, my head already hitting something hard. I lay back down, still coughing.
The coughing feels like someone's cutting up my throat.
My hand blindly reaches out in front of me, hitting what feels like wood. My fingers dig into the palm of my hand and hit above, dust spraying down on me once again.
I have to ignore it. I have to get out.
Something's trickling down my face, warm and unwelcoming. It thickly smells like iron.
No time. Air's too tight.
I get my hands above and try pushing up, more dust falling on me.
My hands are now slamming against it, over and over.
I need to get out.
Splinters are already digging into my skin, stabbing in.
I can't stop.
It's so hard to breathe.
Blood is beginning to trickle down my wrists and bruises are swelling up on my knuckles.
I need to see. I need to see. I need to see.
Where are my eyes?