There is a place where lost things go, where a gray sky sits perpetually overhead, where pain exists. This place is the Dimension of Lost Things. This place is depression. As the narrator debates how to get out, of if they even want to, they do laundry and clean their space, finding it makes them feel ever so slightly better.
There is a place where lost things go, where a gray sky sits perpetually overhead, where pain exists. This place is the Dimension of Lost Things. This place is depression. As the narrator debates how to get out, of if they even want to, they do laundry and clean their space, finding it makes them feel ever so slightly better.
There is a place where lost things go, where a gray sky sits perpetually overhead, where pain exists. This place is the Dimension of Lost Things. This place is depression. As the narrator debates how to get out, of if they even want to, they do laundry and clean their space, finding it makes them feel ever so slightly better.
There is a place where lost things go, where a gray sky sits perpetually overhead, where pain exists. This place is the Dimension of Lost Things. This place is depression. As the narrator debates how to get out, of if they even want to, they do laundry and clean their space, finding it makes them feel ever so slightly better.
There is a place where lost things go, where a gray sky sits perpetually overhead, where pain exists. This place is the Dimension of Lost Things. This place is depression. As the narrator debates how to get out, of if they even want to, they do laundry and clean their space, finding it makes them feel ever so slightly better.
There is a place where lost things go, where a gray sky sits perpetually overhead, where pain exists. This place is the Dimension of Lost Things. This place is depression. As the narrator debates how to get out, of if they even want to, they do laundry and clean their space, finding it makes them feel ever so slightly better.