At present

The shadows are so famous in this room. They outshine the light.
Shapes appear out of thin air and cause my heart to race. We heard footsteps down the hall but I'm almost certain it was just the shadows. You asked my why I couldn't open the curtains and let a little light in to ease my mind and slow my pulse. I said I would when I was ready to see the truth for what it was. I'm not ready to see what's real and what's not.
The shadows make me wonder in soft romantic ways, all the fucking horror that could be coming for me. All the blood inside my body. All the twisted long faces with sunken eyes. All that is my little life.

All that seems so small these days is bigger when something threatens to take it away. And the shadows do just that. They keep me up with motionless breath and fear that wells around my eyes almost causing tears even though I'm too old to cry. I wish so desperately that I didn't need the looming doom of death around to make me want to stay.

But the shadows urge that desire forward to the point where light is night and night is day. And all that remains is this crazy deep anxiety that pushes me to daydream.