Your eyes are television screens.

I’m sitting here under this kind of self-imposed house arrest. Waiting. I don't know what I’m waiting for; I just know that waiting isn't good enough anymore.
          However, I’m here, staring outside my window with a band of black-colored clouds rushing swiftly by. Zipping past, not wanting to stop for a visit. The ice forming on my windows starts to crack and pop, and my fingers… do I even have fingers anymore? How long have I been without feeling my fingers? No, they’re still there.
          When I was younger I was sure I was from another planet. I felt sent here from another world. Only I had forgotten my mission and how to call home. However, one day I realized that I was as normal as the girl to my right or left. How a disappointment that ever was.
          And thinking about once upon a fairytale, I counted numbers until my eyes were stitched shut with sleep. If dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts. And behind closed eyes somebody had swept away the sand and dried the oceans, packed the moon and stars in a cardboard box and painted the sky a deeper shade of blue. I strained to hear the clocks chiming and stars to bejewel this new dark sky, but nothing of the sort occurred. Instead, I was surrounded by quiet.
          Am I alive and dreaming, or dead and remembering?
Falling. Crashing.
The chains that bind me weigh me down, my wings burnt to dust for the love I hold. Hurled from the skies, I met this new world... so twisted, so loathsome, so cold...

Oh, Prince, forgive my sad and sorrowed screed,
Writ on the tattered remnants of my heart.
Repair with healing solace in my need;
Though drawn together once, now torn apart.

The piercing red light screaming its bloodied time of 3:10AM bounced off the polished wooden floors. With the room colder than before, windows starting to shatter and crumble, and the sky even darker (if possible), I crawled out of bed and sat on the cold floor. I fumbled as I lay down every single thought and idea on the floor to sort and see what was worth saving.
          You, dear boy, were saved like lightning in a bottle. Other meaningless things were thrown away into a recycling bin for later use. And as my thoughts cleared as I sorted and piled and threw away, the temperature went up. The icicles hanging from my ceiling fan started to melt and my ceiling dissolved into the summer sky, cotton clouds crying tears of joy for this new revelation.
          Suddenly, four walls came tumbling down, revealing a jail cell that was melting in this newfound heat. And my frosted window shattered, showering me with warm water droplets. I blinked to adjust my eyes and found myself in a grassy meadow, sun shining and warming me up.

Right then and there, I knew everything was going to be alright. As I picked myself up, I rubbed away a circle of condensation on a leftover piece of window and held it up to the sun.

The future looked extremely bright.