Every second that passed, I realized that I preferred being secluded
Whatever that surrounded me, whether it was rotting wood or decaying books
I'm sure I would love the idea of having the pleasure of their company
Mornings meant dragging my feet across the concrete
And nights consisted of me pulling the covers over my head
Making sure that my thoughts were exclusive and not occupying the spaces underneath my bed
My house was a connection of walls
Yet I always felt that they were never enough to keep me from harm
But what terrified me the most was knowing that monsters weren't always physical representations
They regularly creeped through the keyholes and cracks on doors
They spoke to me when home alone
They were the words that I wrote on paper
They were the scars on my body
They were the spaces between my fingers
No matter if I have curtains shut and windows locked
Even if I cut myself loose from the friendships I built to burn back down
The monsters will always be there in my head
Almost as if they were the friends that never left

n.j.