My house; usually relief, a sigh, a deep breath even, after a strenuous day. Most days, I come home, and it’s a safe haven. I can be in the still, quiet, peacefulness of my mind and room without being bothered, questioned, or disturbed. In my quiet empty house, I can think by/with myself and for myself. No more stress, no more concerns, and no more worries of what others think of me. I’m at home, they can’t reach me here…. Though their hurtful words that act as if they are knives they hurt me with linger, there actual presence is no long with me, and they can do no harm. That’s how it should be. No. At home, one should be one’s self, if one is not one’s self everywhere the one goes. I am myself, and I am connected to me through only myself and with Him who has to have created me. I may be myself, but that does not mean that others do not affect the one everywhere they and their knife-like words go. No, I cannot run from them, only to my room inside of my dwelling, to which in that case their words softly linger like a light and airy perfume in the air.
There, I think of those around me constantly; those who use their words as cold knifes, those who abandon, those who misunderstand and mistake, and those who their tainted minds cannot be fixed. My mind also drifts to those who love, those who care, those who are kind, passionate, those who are more than the others; and their presence, too, lingers with me and my mind. They follow me into this big, brown, intimidating box which I call “Home” they are always there, but they tend to lessen their presence at “Home”. If they defy me and do not lessen, they intensify and multiple. They seem to make these big, white, blank walls surrounding me look at me in disappointment and disgust. They screech “You let them in, you let the poison in! How dare you! Fix it, or forever be cursed.” The walls, my room, this house: They are binding and manipulative, but they are always there with open arms. They welcome me with a smile and a glass of sweet and sour lemonade on the hottest most intense day of summer. They have trapped me, for I love them, and they keep me safe, though they’re commanding and stern to me.
The House, my room, my walls. They wish me no harm, and only the best to and for me. They want me to live a long and happy life, surrounded by the loving and kind. They wish not to see me in pain, as it causes pain for themselves, also. The feel what I feel, they can feel my regret and sorrow and I do, just as they can feel my joy and pleasure. They love and comfort me, and I do the same for them. My room is my escape from all the wonders in the world, whether they be good or bad. I wish not to know if the world is truly filled with an equal amount of evil as good. I know that we're all battling fear, and that you need not to worry, for I also know that peace will win, and fear will lose. It will be a good, long, and hard battle, but the outcome will be glorious. Until that day comes, I will always find an escape surrounded by my walls, in my room, in my Home.