It’s dark and lonely in the closet.
You don’t feel safe. You don’t feel loved.
Everyone is close to you, but far, far away.
Your true self is hidden behind walls, doors, bars.
No-one knows you.
You barely seem to know yourself.
It’s cold and quiet in the closet.
You’re isolated. You live in secret.
Never fully present in the world around you.
Things and people are just beyond your reach.
It’s black and boring in the closet.
And you want to come out, you want to escape.
It’s all you ever dream of.
It’s the one thought that keeps you sane – that one day you will come out of the closet, and be loved and accepted for who you are.
But it’s safe and secure in the closet.
It’s a cocoon.
And you know that no-one is judging you because no-one knows you’re different.
And you don’t know whether you’ll be supported or loved or cared for when you come out.
And you don’t know if you’ll still have friends, or family, or a roof over your head.
And you try to tell yourself that it’s better to be hated than loved for what you’re not, but you don’t know if it’s true.
Because the closet is dark and lonely, cold and quiet, black and boring.
But it’s a sanctuary.
And one day you will come out, slowly, inch by inch, step by step. Out of the closet. And you will be safe and secure, and loved for who you are.