My Safe-room
The situation took weeks before it was finally ended. My parents promised me I would never have to go back. But I was not comforted. I created a different world in my head to live in. In this world I was a master at martial arts. Nobody could ever touch me or say hurtfull things to me. They feared me. I didn't fear them. At least not in my head...
I packed all these bad memories into a lockbox and threw away the key, then locked myself into a different room. Nobody could come into it, they could look at the door from the other side, but I would never open the door, and they were locked out. I thought this would stop people from hurting me, and perhaps it did to some degree. But when I entered this room, I took my fear with me.
I thought he would leave, be chased away by the safety of my room. But he thrived. I pushed him into a corner, trying to keep him away, but he only grew. He blackmails me, telling me that if I even think about what lies beyond that door, he will let my memories back into the room. The hurt would return with the memories, because the two were inseperatable.
Now I have a choice; do I sit here and let him win, or kick him out? The answer may seem obvious, but if I kick him out, I have to open the door. If the door opens, my memories come flooding back in, the pain following. People will see me, they can hurt me...
YOU ARE READING
My Stories And Secrets
SpiritualA small collection of my personal testamonies, and things I've written to describe emotions like anxiety. Content includes; The Bracelet, My Monster, The Stroyteller, Dear Anxiety, and Demons In My Closet.
