I’ve been here before.
I remember this place. The memories rush back to me in waves, sometimes gently and other times they crash down on me.
I’ve seen this place before.
I have stood in this very space and have looked around. I know the dark corners and where to stand to catch the right light.
I’ve felt this emptiness in the air.
The hum of nothing in particular is the white noise that hangs heavily in the air. The electric charge threatens the silent reverence here.
I remember me here.
My voice is like a quiet echo. The words are vaguely understandable like a child’s voice as it’s muffled in a tantrum as she screams into her pillow. The echos of different stages and fights.
It’s all so familiar to me.
I can recognize my place in this space. The feelings I’ve felt float in the air and mingle with the ghosts of my past and swirl around my soul. Stirring in the air as my emotions build.
Yes, I know this place so well.
Created by chaos and pain, built out of need and the pure drive of survival. A home for a broken child’s soul and tender spirit as it healed and broke again. Walls that were built for the basic need to live.
I have been here often.
Each time it’s been the same. A place to escape, my home of refuge and safety. A place where I struggled alone as I came to terms with my demons.
This place. It’s no longer the same.
Everything seems just as I left it. But time has taken its toll on it’s perfection and luster. The dust has begun to settle.
This place is my battlefield.
But this time, as I stand ready to fight, things are different. The shadows don’t scare me and the light is my beacon. I stand on equal grounding as my demons for the first time.
This place is familiar.
And I am no longer afraid.