It's a strange feeling, and it's sent me very anti-social.
I'm sure if I tried I could replay each memory of everyday I've ever been here,
But at the moment, I've just got patches of grey, with little distinguishing dabs of colour.
Each room I walk into takes me back to a small patch of grey.
Each face I see takes me back to a moment shared, a dab of colour.
I'm not sure how I'm meant to feel.
I feel like I'm up to the last page of this book, and I seem to be reading with my eyes shut.
I'm tired and can't remember what I just read.
The only difference is, you can read a book again.