he liked to dress his room as an acid trip
with red and blue and green fluorescent lights and shiny beanbag chairs that he could fall asleep on for hours of the day.
he adored the surreal sounds of obscure indie rock which seemed to roll in time with whiffs of Tibetan incense every evening.
he loved to float through his mind and find himself in some place far away, while still gazing up at the glow-in-the-dark solar system, plastered to his black ceiling.
he loved his tie-dye rug, his paint-by-number peace sign, and all three Van Gough prints.
he loved to trip out of his everyday life, but he still felt empty.