No windows, no color, only one chair and a blanket to sleep on the hard concrete floor. My only friend was the whispers of the wind and the howls of the coyote when the moon rises. Special this place is to me because it is were my regret, pain, sorrow, anguish, and most distinctive feelings come from. It is what I am and who I am.
The horrible smell of tobacco and old age, who was my fiend, still lingers on in the room I had once called home. When you touch the barren walls of the forgotten trailer you feel as you looked into the devil’s eyes. You are in the devil’s den. That is what my special place is to me, the devil, it killed my spirit. From this pain, sorrow and regret came exhilaration, sentiment, and maturity.
The map of the abandoned lies within my mind, unforgotten, unforgivable, imbecile, cold and gelid in my mind. The memory is fresh because it lingers in me as hollow figments that caused this, today, what I am.
This is my special place because it is my thoughts, my worst, and because it made me who I am today.
