The walls surround me while I lay in wake. Often confining and shrinking in, crushing me. At the same time, I watch them close in and remain frozen in this room, too afraid to escape. The walls concave, trapping me; I’m separated from everyone on the outside.
These walls trap me away from you. You stand outside my glass box, watching me, with your hand to the glass. Letting me know you’re there. And every time I manage to find my way to you, the walls stop closing in. You’ve always helped push those walls away. You’ve always helped me find my way and escape that room, even giving me the strength at times to leave by myself.
Even today, those walls are still there, and sometimes I trap myself in that same room, but now there is a difference. I know I can leave. And I can do it on my own.
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