The low ceiling hits my head each time I want to stand straight. So I keep my head bent. It does ache after sometime but then again sometime after that the back of my head stops feeling anything at all. The ceilings on the side are blank wooden planks. I shamelessly write there with my uneven scrawly handwriting, glad that whatever I am writing no one's going to ever read. I doodle too sometimes. It never happens consciously. It's only when I am absent minded it happens.
On the ceiling below me I have kept a 5' 5" gap. The rest is strewn with food that I am going to devour each day. Every moment. In some places in my room, " the food" piles up and touches the low ceiling.
I have an in built camera in me and an in built notebook. The moment I have gathered enough strength from the food I shall take off. For a while the room is my world. But I know that the world outside my room is a massive place. When I take off, I'll try to cover the world. Am sure by then I will be strong enough to fly that distance. Strong enough to fight the opposing current and fly against the air flow.
For now, excuse me . I need to eat.