Four Walls

Each day I wake up on one bed, next to one dog, between four walls. Each day I roll out of bed, brush my teeth one time, shower once, and find myself between four walls.

I never quite know if I’m in the right spot. I know I’m safe. I know I’m where the world would want me. I’m exactly what everyone asked me to be. I’m everything people thought I wouldn’t be. I’m nothing I want to be. I’m there. But I’m not here. I don’t know if I will ever be here.

Each day I wake up on one bed, next to one dog, between four walls.

When I look in the mirror each morning, I don’t know who I’m looking at. Am I young? Am I old? How much time do I have left? How much time do others around me have left? Why do I have so many questions? What can I possibly do differently? What am I doing here? What happens if I’m not here? What should my focus be on? Wait, this mirror isn’t straight. I need to fix that.

Each day I roll out of bed, brush my teeth one time, shower once, and find myself between four walls.

It’s time to not worry about myself. It’s time to answer other people’s problems. Have I addressed any of my own? No, the answer is no. But again I’m there, there for others and continuously thinking of what I would like to do for myself. I’m trapped with my own shortcomings. Each mistake I’ve made I relive. Each poor decision I’ve made factors into my daily life. I don’t forgive myself. 

Each day I wake up on one bed, next to one dog. Each day I roll out of bed, brush my teeth one time, and shower once.

Stuck in these four walls and stuck within the confines of my own mind. Blinded by my past and scared of the future, unaware of the present at all times. I’m tired. I’m worn. I’m not prepared for what’s next. I like the four walls. They keep me safe.

I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.