Suffocating

A hostage in my own home. I should feel safe. I have no reason not to. And yet I am suffocating in my own skin. I am drowning, the feeling burns my throat and my eyes water. I want to crawl away to a small dark corner and escape. It's oddly comforting, knowing that the feeling is always there. Perched on my shoulder, like an old friend. When I am away from it, I miss it, when I am with it, I am suffering. How does one escape their own place? Being in another person's home makes my skin crawl. I scrap at my skin in an effort to release myself. I am ensnared by my own mind. Trapped pray, caught in the eyes of a hungry predator. My chest tighten up, and my breath becomes short. There is no escaping the feeling, you cannot now block it's treacherous hold. And yet, it is still my favorite place.