My Bedroom
A place that is supposed to make you feel safe.
A sanctuary, I guess you could call it,
And for most people, it is.
But not for me.
No, for me, it is a place where,
I feel trapped.
Not trapped as in I can’t leave,
Trapped, as in a place I can leave,
But for some reason, I can’t.
It is where all the worst parts of me can run free
My anxiety, sadness, and depression
My anxiety, that paces back and forth in front of me,
Worrying about something, I know is irrational to be worrying about.
My sadness, sitting in a ball in the corner of the room, crying,
About the things and the people that we miss and know we can’t get back.
And then there is my depression…
Lying cocooned under my blankets, feeling numb about the fact that we have lost, the motivation that we once had to get up, go out and interact with the people we love.
That we hold so close to our heart.
But here all of me is.
Trapped in my bedroom
again.
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