My safe place is my bed. My best friend is my bed. My bed knows all of my dark thoughts at 2 or 3 in the morning when I can't sleep.
My bed has been soaked with my tears and has heard my cries that I keep deep down in my chest. My bed feels my pain, the kind of pain that gives you that ugly knot and that huge ball in the middle of your throat.
My bed has been there when I had confusing thoughts to myself do I even deserve this life? What is life? Am I where I am supposed to be? Can I do better? Is this it for me? Is this temporary? Will I be with someone else a year from now? Will I be alive a year from now? My bed has been there through my confusion.
When I lie to others and say that I am okay just so I don't have to tell them what I am feeling because they can never understand I block it all out to avoid the questioning, but once my head hits the pillow my mind releases everything I am feeling.
My bed is my safe place who knows me the best. My bed knows my in and outs, what I have been through, my pains and joys, my truth, my overall being.