for years now I have,
very carefully,
grown a place that is mine.
that is safe.

you’d call it a house,
but it’s more;
it’s somewhere I can hide
from myself.

cause it’s hard
to shut out
the brain you carry round
every second.

so I built a home
that was mine
and that was safe from
my own terrors.

it wasn’t perfect
but it worked,
it worked and that mattered
more than anything.

then I took myself
away from it.
not forever; not for long,
just long enough.

and everything started
to shatter.
it was like before I’d
grown it at all.

I thought I liked
being alone;
it turns out I only like it
when it’s short.

this is no longer
a nice retreat.
it’s now learning to live
with myself, again.

so I will be brave
and determined;
I’ll try, even, to be kind
when it is hard.

because I am trapped
in my mind
full of spikes and pits;
falling hurts.

but it’s not forever,
and one day
I will get to go back to
the place I made.

and then I will laugh
at myself;
at the silliness of it all,
at my stupid brain.

but never at myself.
never at me.
because there’s nothing wrong
with fearing pain.

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