Semi-Daily Scribbles

I am a visitor here. When will the walls start to talk? Lines must be down; a widespread outage. No wonder the stars are burning at 30%. With so little light to go by, the question remains: Will I grow feet or wings, and where would those things take me? I see the pit, the scaffolding, the long hallway into darkness. The Welcome mat is a nice afterthought in front of the façade. Charlotte said there'd be days like this. Days where I'd feel like the uninvited. She's always had my back. Twins are like that. We've always been treated like guests.