How wonderful would it be if a kiosk for life existed?
This imaginary kiosk would resemble what seven year old children call BASE! in a game of tag. It’s your free ticket out of a horrendous game of tag. Once you reach base your heart stops chasing you.
It’s 2:10am and the world seems unfair.
My television is on but nothing is being watched, just heard. The sound of white noise. After all that’s what my life has been reduced to; white noise. Usually the site of powder blue around this time of year would excite any woman. It’s the color of Tiffany boxes that retain expensive jewelry; it means someone cares.
I spent 6 hours with this infamous shade of blue, and there was no jewelry to be found. Just a crisis worker, a sitter, and a psychiatric screener.
I suppose it meant that someone cared, but that’s past tense.
The seclusion room was my company for the evening. She’s as cold as her name, however, we are a feather from the same flock; No one ever stays too long and we let those that hurt inside of us.
I think I have one up on seclusion. The door to this room doesn’t have a lock and just anyone can swing in and out without much care. I, on the other hand, have recently installed only the finest deadbolt. Merry Christmas to me.
I’ll never let another person in for a very long time.