This room. These tight little four walls painted in a light blue color. A color that incites bursts of happiness in a person. I could stay here forever. It’s not perfect, but it’s my space. I do what I want in here: no rules, no unwanted visitors. The lighting could be better. I’d like to get the carpets removed…a mini fridge would be nice. I don’t like isolation, but I love it when it’s just me and my thoughts in here.

Suddenly, the first tear falls. Before another one falls, I tell myself to stop. Stop all these thoughts; there’s really no point in them. But it’s too late, and before I know it all my eyeliner is smudged and my thoughts are going crazy. I think and think until my favorite four walls are suffocating me. I need to escape, but I have nowhere to go. This space, it’s my closure – and my prison cell.

My thoughts remind me that on the other side of these light blue, happy walls is a disgusting world filled with ignorant and selfish people. That a few countries away, innocents are dying and being abused, that there is no real way of helping them. That my room may be blue, but the world we all live in is black and white; that outside my walls, people are getting arrested, starving and sleeping on streets, because the shade of their skin doesn’t match the color of “society”. I wish the world could be my light blue room. I wish I could go out on the streets and find that people are not afraid that I might do what they have been told people like me do. I wish they knew that I do not want to hurt them, that none of us do. I want to invite them into my space, so we see eye to eye – so they feel the comfort that I do. But that’s just not reality is it? The world cannot be my light blue room – God has other plans.