View Thinker #9ce831's profile thought 16 years, 10 months ago...

When I was a little girl, I would walk around in the woods outside of my house for hours and hours collecting various materials that I could use to build my fort with. I would have conversations with the trees and flowers and grasses around me as well as the various entities I projected in my head to keep me company as I ran about and got poison ivy an chiggers.

I built a sanctuary in the woods where i could go when I was upset. I decided that it was necessary for me. Even at a young age, it seems, I was all to aware of how much I didn't want to be in my house. My house is not my sanctuary. It's a lovely house, my room is cozy enough for me, but there's always been a tension and a sadness, a lonely feeling for me there.

I think I'll try and find the path I made to get to my sanctuary today. I covered the entrance to it to make sure no one else knew about it. I purposely built walls around my structure out of string, grass, twigs, fallen branches, and other various materials so that no one could see me from the main trails. But this place was so safe from everyone but me. I stopped going there when I became my greatest enemy. I think I'm ready to go back though.

View Thinker #77406d's profile thought 16 years, 10 months ago...

Sanctuary and home to me are not the same. I have a home. A wonderful home. It's cozy and warm, it's full of my stuff. I don't have to tiptoe, and if I want to leave, I can use the door. I have two beings who love me.

I don't have to sleep alone.

Sanctuary I do not have. Well, this place is safe, physically. I gladly use the deadbolts the previous occupant installed, and we have a fairly detailed security system (especially for the ghetto.)

That's not sanctuary, that's piece of mind.

There isn't a place on Earth I can go to get away from what haunts me. There isn't a material, no super strong steel or space age polymer, that can keep the bad craziness away. Because it's in my head.

Safe in my own home, it catches me. And it gives no forewarning. A physical attack would have footsteps, breaking glass. Everything outside of me that can hurt me has to move through space and time, and therefore gives some sort of warning, although I might not catch it.

But in my head... I can't feel the chemicals mixing. I can't supervise my subconscious. It just happens. Sitting on the couch. Eating at the table. Screwing around online. Even in Owen's arms, I'm not safe.

Not safe. Never safe.

Demons in my head. Connecting the wrong wires, telling my body to hyperventilate. Telling my conscious that WE NEED TO GET THE FUCK OUT NOW GO GO GO GO GO GO.

I'm so tired.

I have finally found my sanctuary in Muncie. Only a few days remain in this school year and after that i will probably never come back. Regardless, i think i'm going to be spending much of my free time left in this place. In the past two years i don't think that i've ever felt as deeply happy as at this moment right now. I'm all alone, but the whole world is bustling around me. i can see them, even though they can't see me. the sun is out and the wind is blowing. i'm happy.

This is my niche.

View Thinker #418656's profile

I know how you feel.... Congrads on your findings

View Thinker #277dd3's profile

Ahhh, "home." It is an emotion for me, more than a place. I used to experience "home" almost daily, for about six months. I hope to someday feel it again. Good work with that.

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