The Room


I have to unlock this door, the latch is rusty, the hinges are weak and the door itself is soaked with tears.
My hand shakes with fear; I tremble at the thought of entering. The small damp, dark room on the other side frightens me. The small room is sound proof and I fear the door will close behind me and I will be locked in.

I know it is sound proof; I was in that room, locked behind its door, and no one came when I called for help. A silent scream for help was never heard.
I freeze with a sense of terror; I cannot urge my hand to place the key in the lock.

The memory of the darkness that surrounds you completely, goes through you in a blanket of hopelessness. The dampness that seeps from the walls, floor and ceiling pierces your body in waves of pain. Your body aches with every movement, every thought and every cry.
I know there is a need to open the door and let light in the room. I need to let there be rays of hope and heat of love into the room. It needs to be washed of all toxins and venom. With light, warmth and laughter the room will disappear.
I did not escape without help; I had to confess to myself that the room was my prison. I had to make peace with my thoughts and tell someone. I had to give myself a voice. Although I still stand on the outside of this room, it still stands there. It still exists here with all its suffering. I am almost ready to open that door, in fact to take the door off. Maybe put in a hot tub and fill it with laughter where it will shine and be a positive force in my life.

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