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Four White Walls
Four white walls. That resemble the color and texture of a very cold and quiet hospital room. For white walls. That generously give me sanctuary and comfort when I truly need them the most, as well as privacy and isolation. Four white walls. That turn blue at night, making me feel as though I’m laying quietly under the moon and stars. My lungs filled with the desire to breathe in the cold night wind. Though, I remain caged inside my four white walls, where I’m safe and left untouched.
Long before the pandemic appeared and struck the world, I rarely ever left my house. The internet had always been my happy little helper. Everything that I could do online, to avoid going outside, I had already become accustomed to, like shopping, taking classes, and even talking to friends. Then again, the only friends I have, nowadays, all live halfway across the world, so I never had much of a choice. Spending the majority of my young adulthood inside my small, old bedroom was, again, a choice I could not avoid making.
The thing I quickly came to realize once I reached adulthood was that the only true choices we have in life are how we chose to react to the hands we are dealt with. Admittedly, I reacted rather poorly, at first, to the hand I was dealt with.
I was diagnosed with severe anxiety and depression at a fairly young age, which made things — like high school — more…
