In case of Emergency, break glass

I can see the outside from where I stand in my room. I often watch the children and the birds and the clouds. Outside there is a world of color and life and smells all buzzing around in my imagination. If I think real hard sometimes I can hear the sound of the breeze and feel the golden, honey rays of the sun on my fridgid skin. I want to smell the orange blossoms and the fresia, so I look intently out the window trying to feel the world I see outside.
This room I am in is white, all white, everything white, and sterile. There are no sounds in my room, except the deafening drum of silence. I often times feel cold so I pace and rub my arms as I stand in front of the window and stare. When I get tired of pacing, when my feet ache and my back hurts I sit in a chair that I have advantageously placed in front of the colorful window. That's really when I dream. I dream about contentment, and I wonder, maybe contentment is like my blanket. I wrap myself tight and snuggly, sitting in my chair staring hard out the window. "Contentment is a blanket." I think to myself. And I rock, slowly back and forth as I pull the threads out, one by one.