I’ve finally moved into myself fully,
After living out of labeled boxes for what seems like my lifetime.
Things are finally arranged just so, and designed to suit only me.
My blueprint is beautiful.
I keep all of my knowledge and wisdom out front where everyone can see it.
It distracts from the leftover sadness and uncertainty that I haven’t put into storage yet.
Each emotion is neatly organized in their own order so as to be easily accessible:
Love has claimed the largest space and tends to spread out, but no one complains.
Joy bubbles up from the basement to say hello at least once a day. She generally finds worry, sadness and uncertainty ganging up again and making a mess in the attic.
Hope doesn’t mind staying on the shelf until she’s needed; which is more and more often.
And happiness has her own room but always leaves the door open.
Fear lives out back and sometimes wakes me up at night. We’re working on that.
My rage is always right where I left it, and it’s too big to move so I’m waiting until I have help.
I decorate with my dreams, which are proudly displayed on the walls,
And music accompanies everything.
Inside jokes abound since laughter serves as the diffuser to keep the air fresh.
I still have a junk drawer that serves as a catch-all for my fleeting thoughts and partial memories, but make no mistake, I’m always down for a dump run.
I’m liberal with the Do Not Disturb sign so if you’re invited in you know you’re welcome.
Very few stay the night though.
It’s not that I don’t want connection,
It’s just I now know what it really looks and feels like,
And I won’t sacrifice sleep for a substitute.
I maintain my garden for myself,
Not the neighbors.
And I always leave a light on,
In case I lose myself again.
Welcome Home
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