On the outside I can see other buildings, but beyond those buildings I can see things that I wish I could touch.
I can see birds waiting. I can see some in a flock, making their way to another destination.
I can see people walking along a path to another destination. Some in pairs, some in groups, some alone.
I can see grass cut and sculpted perfectly to create aesthetic appeal for those would pay attention.
Among the grass I can see people relaxing in the sun, which sits among the clouds occasionally poking out from behind them to create a show of light that patterns itself via its own rhythmic dance with the clouds that it is with, holding fast in the sky for the day as it passes us all by.
I can hear the sounds of many having conversations, some celebratory as it nears the end of the day and some sort of success has been attained, and some being much more serious and downcast as there is more work than there are hours before the results will be needed.
I look beyond the glass and all I can see are things and places where I would like to be.
I can see stairs that lead to places where others are congregating for meetings, speeches, discussions, plans, jokes, debates and other sorts of behaviour.
I can see doors that lead to food courts where the food is not what one would describe as being worth the amount you pay, but where the company is a welcome addition.
I can see pathways that lead to transport that will carry me home so long as I let it be that which I ride in.
I see walls that seem to want to block the area of the day and yet are unable to, as despite their construction there is too much space for them to attempt to occupy.
There is no feeling of suffocation out there, where I can only see and am unable to reach.
I can reach out toward the outside, but all my touch manages to do is reach the glass wall that currently separates me from that which I desire.
I am inside, here only able to look out or keep on working away.
I can only see the natural light, the birds, the people and the paths that will lead elsewhere.
I am not stuck, and yet I am unable to leave and leave is what I so desperately desire, for I am someone who needs to move or at least am someone that feels as though they are one that needs to keep on moving and cannot stand still for long periods of time.
As inside as I am in this structure that is currently my habitat, outside is something that is as close as it is unreachable.
It will remain an unobtainable goal until the one that I have set before myself is as complete as it is required to be complete.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 09:35:31
I think that this may be a bit too dramatic.
When I started writing I thought it might be interesting.
Then I tried to make it poetic.
It could be much better.
Written at UNSW library.