Sweet Home, Alone

There is a fear within me that continues to claim victory over my rising happiness. This feeling can only be described as imprisonment. Applied to all avenues of life, it seems to me that my material self has been taken hostage. Imagine this:

a girl, young and beautiful. She has golden blonde hair that has grown beyond the small of her back. She is porcelain-like – the smooth, pale skin untainted by the demons of puberty. She wears a flowing sun dress, with small delicate flowers embroidered on the fabric. She lives her young life like every other young girl and boy but she lives a less desirable life beyond the ‘things’ that define our world. She is the same young girl, but in her mind she is kept within four invisible walls. She can see kilometers ahead – the fallen birch trees and the hills elevated in the sky – but she doesn’t dare walk past the four walls she has designated for herself. Some may say this is her comfort zone but it is not. To create a comfort zone she must know what makes her uncomfortable but she has never made this contrast. Maybe, she has established these walls to ensure she will never feel anything unknown. She has imagined what love is, what commitment is, what responsibility is – but she would rather keep separate the imagination from reality. For what if she does fall in love or if she commits and invites responsibility? Who then will she become?
These invisible walls have been her knights – standing tall, coated in silver armour, holding with confidence spears that ward off any intangible feelings. She has decided to fight with nothing but her mind.

In my reality, I sit legs crossed on the misty grass and let the sun shine through my invisible home – the safest place I know – a home of nothing.