Safe Spot

January 13, 2011
Custom User Avatar
More by this author
There’s one question everyone rushes back to comfort to find the answer. It’s one question. There are multiple answers and the best part is that there are no wrong answers. Where do you feel safe? That special safe spot gives you safety and leaves you free minded. Letting you believe anything, realizing the impossible, accomplishing your biggest tasks, or it just plain old letting you relax. That space when you feel your most safe leaves you feeling invincible and secure, like a mother to a baby. You ask, where’s my safe spot? My bedroom.

My walls are barricaded around me. It’s like my castle and I‘m the princess. The door is the pass way, and I’m in charge for who’s allowed to come in and out. The door can be locked, notes can be left on the whiteboard, lights can be turned on or off, and the TV can blast as loud as I want it to, all because it’s my room; my safe spot. There are no questions being asked, or chores to be done. I hook up my iPod to my Bose, crank it up half way, walk to my chair, set my body free, and go into my zone. I stare at the photographs lined so neatly along my walls as the music silences the humming of the heater. Closing my eyes I watch the memories abscond by, like a slide show of pictures. I think to myself, “no one can touch me. I’m here, in my room. It’s my room. My rules. Just music, memories and myself.”

This safe spot of mine likes to get cluttered, but you know what, cleaning, for me, is when all of my stress goes away. Cleaning is my stress ball. Folding jeans, angry thoughts float out of my head. Hanging shirts, bitter memories fly away. Making my bed, my lifeless personality flips. Sweeping the floor, my irascible mood fades away.

All of these tasks are being done because I want them to be done, not because some vexatious parent is asking. It’s my room and I make the rules. I can break them, twist them, or play with them however I want. This is my zone and everyone who lives at my house knows it. Don’t knock when the door is open. Don’t text me if you know I have my phone. They know, fifteen minutes is all I need.

No one can touch me. I’m here. In my room, it’s my room. My rules. Just music and myself. Forever I wish to be here, just me.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback