Think of me as the very first paper ever created. Where with even too much air pressure I'll crack and crumble but in slow motion where seconds are actually years. And the only way to save me is with a ton of tape and sending me off to space where all I have to do is exist. Although instead of it being a safe haven it's a prison. In reality. The air is my thoughts, my mind space, and there's not enough tape in the world that can truly fix me.
