My Room

It is every colour all at once. It is expansive and claustrophobic at the same time. There are no windows. There are four bare bulbs centred on each wall, each with a different wattage that never turn off. I am plopped into this room without prior knowledge or consent. I grow accustomed, content and attached to this room. It is my home. I know the colour, I know the light, I know the shadow. Whether or not I know why I'm here, or even that I'm here at all, this room is safe. I must protect this room.

People chip away at the other sides of the walls. Imperceptible at first. Sometimes so, that I don't notice the intrusion at all. I believe them safe to my room. But then they start to make changes to my home. What are you doing? That should be blue, not green. Stop it! Don't move that light, it doesn't belong there. That shouldn't be turned up so high, I can't see!

They do so without asking and without permission. And then they leave. I am left now with hollow spaces they used to occupy. I am left to fix the changes they made, but I am so tired that yes, I'll do it tomorrow. Maybe another tomorrow. Maybe I don't need to change it? Maybe I rather like what they did? Maybe they knew what they were doing and just wanted to help make my room better.

The walls detect the next person immediately. But they aren't sure if they're a threat or a safe haven, so they log them as both and I treat them as both. I love them and I hate them. I can't stand to look at them yet I can't bear to see them go. Don't leave me, please! You can't stay here!

My room is not the same. There is little colour left. Half of the bulbs don't work and half of the rest are so very dim. Two are missing altogether. The ceiling has cracks and holes. Half of one wall is completely gone. It's cold but I have other ways to keep me warm now.

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