The single flame from my candle dances, thunder and lightning as my backdrop, as I sit in silence in the one place that makes me feel most secure, that makes me feel most alive. I gently inhale and exhale, smiling as the rain cascades across my window. My room has always been my sanctuary, my place to cry, to sing, to dance and to dream. I’ve always thought that there can never be anywhere else that can compare.
My books sit on my shelf above my computer and my clothes that I refuse to throw out due to homely scents hang in my wardrobe. Photographs that fill my room bring sweet nostalgia as I’m reminded that at one point, that was my life. Torn gig tickets carefully tucked away amongst my high school timetable and old Science textbooks that I no longer need. Every part of me is here, both past and present.
Problem is, I don’t want my room to be my sanctuary. Instead, I want the protection and peace that I feel when I enter my room to come from inside of me, to be with me all of the time. Why should I put my trust in materialistic items when I can put that faith in myself instead? This warm feeling of safety has to ingrain itself into my bones and weave itself into my anatomy.
I have this burning desire to make that transition, physical place to mental soul. I know that I can’t keep depending on other people or things to feel safe within myself. My room has been a safety net my entire life, hidden from the dangers of the world and a place to regain my energy. My room, my family, my town; they’ve always been my haven because I didn’t know any better.
But as time has progressed I feel a shift has taken place. I now find that I want to take that leap and explore new places, I want to cross paths with new people who will change my life, I want to learn and grow in a way that I didn’t think was possible before. I’m finally realising that I am the one in control, that I am my own sanctuary and that I don’t need anything or anyone else to feel empowering freedom and security within myself.