i walk inside and straight to my room every step every movement is taking me closer to something nothing my heart is pounding my hands are hungry and i grip the door with them slam it then the door is pieces of wood the walls are loud my voice roars then cracks and breaks my knuckles hurt they throb they scream please stop
it’s not my voice
it’s not fair
the bed against my back brings me comfort and the soft warm light of the afternoon flooding into my room is mellow. the anger has faded, gone back into it’s cage and i’m embarrassed, broken pieces of mirror crack under my feet as i move them. and just for a second i get this familiar feeling somewhere in my brain, like something just clicked back in and i think what am i doing?
i look around at my room and it’s trashed, theres holes and pieces of what used to be a door, a mirror, and countless other things lie everywhere and i tell myself
it’s okay. it’s okay. it’s okay.
i get up and get a big trash bag.