Spoiler
It definitely needs to be refined; at first glance I see some definite awkward points, but overall, I'm satisfied with how this turned out. Opinions? 
I’m in my own little corner of the world. At the edge, that dead end of the maze you always wind up turning to, no matter how many different path combinations you take; left, left, right, left, right up down sideways around. The destination is always the same. The end.
No matter there’s a window to the outside world beside me, radiating cold. It’s nighttime, and the only thing I can see past my own reflection is a pinpoint of light, far off in the distance. A lamppost, probably, illuminating the dark, silent, dead street housing my home. As far as I know, that light is a beacon signaling the endpoint of my sanity. There’s nothing concrete beyond it, because like I said, I’m cornered at the edge of the world.
An ambiance of total anonymity is reverberating from the walls of my closet, where I’ve found myself pigeonholed. Curled up against the wall with my laptop and a small red lamp that isn’t nearly powerful enough to illuminate the pages of the book I was thinking of reading.
There’s a lot to think about. Endless possibilities and combinations of thought patterns and doors and windows, beckoning me to come and contemplate the varying shades of my reality. Enticing me in that wily, affluently convincing way they do.
My fingernails are painted lime green, the tips beginning to chip away, leaving glittering nail polish debris around the “F” and “J” keys on my computer. Here, my skeleton fingers wait for a moment of inspiration to send them flying. I crack my knuckles. Bad habits, as unbreakable as that window. Unbreakable meaning, of course, that I can think of few circumstances under which I would need to break that window. So my knuckles continue on cracking to the bone-crunching beat of boredom.
Cold feet, I wrap in socks. Cold hands, I wrap in sleeves. I can almost see the sun in the layers of clothing I wear to stave away the frigid air seeping through the cracks in my wall. My wall, my mind? No, I won’t go that far. Because there are cracks in my wall; no metaphor there. The same cracks through which slip my nightmares, wary of the mauve dream catcher standing guard above my bed. I live in fear of the day that seal is broken, letting loose all of the death and sorrow and misery and despair I’ve been shedding like a winter coat all of these years.
Sometimes I slip a finger in the crack to let it infect me. Just a little bit. A taste, a test of my ability to cope. To figure out if I’m ready to stare the universe in the face and tell it to get the hell out of my goddamn mind and bother someone else, please, because it’s nighttime now and I want to sleep, please, please, please.
Battle scars worn like necklaces. Neck laces? Bracelets. Brace, let’s? Let’s. Accessorize and demonize and revitalize whatever we see reflected in that window. Introspection, the philosopher’s weapon of choice in answering the deep, dark, dissolute questions in the heart of every narcissist. Every one of us. Because we are the materialists, the self-lovers in an age of individualism and proletarian dreams. Where the common man looks up from his tool bench and into his closet and see’s the monsters hiding in the dark just beyond the reach of every child’s understanding. And he thinks they will go away. That nothing will happen to him or us or the royal “we”. That nothing will part him from reality. That his self is eternal and who should worry about the future, anyways? Because it’s too far out of reach. Too far ahead.
I’m in my own little corner of the world, peering around the hellish halo of light trickling from that dwarfish lamp. Battling the monsters that wait right around the edges, ready to enslave. Ready to hate; to hate, to tear and break and chain and eat and shatter.
I’m in my own little corner of the world, entirely content with my lot because I am the worker, the fighter, the monster, the liver, the lover. Selfish and demanding and condescending. Empathetic and passionate and unassuming. Wading through the waters of understanding to find my way through this maze of life, only to realize that the light I thought I saw around the corner is just a streetlamp. Shining through a darkened window cradled in the branches of the hedge. A star working past my own reflection and illuminating the street outside my house. My home. My reality. A reflection of my determined face; determined to find some other destination that isn’t…
the end.
But anyway, thanks again!!