In my room, time stands still.
There’s cool comfort in the darkness;
healing kisses to my dry, weary eyes.
There’s no shouting, no arguments, no discord;
only the tick, tock of the clock with no face
the feeling of meeting oneself in this place.
In my room, I can fly beyond the four walls to places and to people who are connected by heartstrings and touchstones encoded in my very cells; music, memories and emotions are my compass, I close my eyes and travel far and wide, throughout the multiple galaxies and unknown cosmos seeking out my beloved and those whom I love.
I don’t have a physical body to bind me to the earth, I’m free of physical limitations and the aging infrastructure of my skin suit. I am flying on clouds of stardust, of tracks of comets and interstates of energy. There’s no pain, no weakness, no stopping me or slowing me down.
In my room, I’m a jet fighter, a galaxy traveler, a space explorer, a wanderlust junkie, a student in the classroom that is the Universe. I am everything and I am nothing. I am the space in between the here and there. I am energy, manifested by thought and brought to being by magic.
In my room, I am whatever I wish to be, however I wish to be. I can be silent and solemn, I can be belligerent and brash or laughing and lovely; I have only myself to please.
In my room, my inner child runs amuck, coloring the walls and building forts of bologna and sending soldiers of salami to fight the roast beef raiders. She’s wearing her colors of imagination, rocking the mismatched socks and the glitter-y lip gloss that smells like strawberries. Girl is having THE. TIME. OF. HER. LIFE.
In my room isn’t a bad place to be, it’s what I decide to think, to create, to see.