Space

The warm breeze embraced the top of her head as she sat underneath the vent, snuggled in the warm embrace and comfort of her home, alone, in her space.

Her space is where she always stayed.

Her space was sacred.

Her space was the most important thing that shan't be taken away from her at the risk of her wrath and panic.

Her space was her loneliness.

Her loneliness was her fuel,

her power.

Loneliness and isolation are the only things that keep her sane in this crazy world that continuously drives a feeling of dread to her core like a school bus that has lost control.

The world is her enemy.

The world is her inspiration.

Without that feeling of dread produced by the world, what would drive her to keep going?

She wonders how something can make you feel so much dread but so much hope all at once.

She wonders how she can describe the world, being so substantial and complex, with the minuscule word “something.”

It amazes her how quickly something can be belittled so unintentionally, so simply.

Everything is enhanced in her world.

When things are big they are massive.

When things are small they are microscopic.

While having the ability to make things beautiful, this can also drive her crazy.

When things get to be too much she returns.

The warm breeze blows no longer.

Nevertheless, she returns

to her sanity,

her sanctuary,

her space.