The Bedroom Door

I guess when they tell you that you've made your bed and now you have to lay in it, they never mentioned that you don't get any second chances. They don't tell you that you're stuck with that bed for life, and every single crease, every single mistake, and every single choice you make about how many pillows, and which stuffed toys you want, you have those choices for life. Everyday you can fix some creases in the bed, but whilst doing that, you crease more of it. And it's never going to sit quite right, and you're never going to want to sleep in it.

And you can choose not to sleep in it you want, you can walk right out of the room. But it's a one way ticket, and as soon as you leave, you'ree not allowed back anymore. So I sit on the edge of doorway, like I used to when I was sent my room. I sit as close to the door as possible, and sometimes i put a toe over that line. And no one knows, no one cares, but I feel incredibly free.

And now I'm sitting here, on the edge of the bedroom door. And all I want to do is run out, to leave everyone in my life behind, and run, with you, forever. And I never want to turn around and look back at this bedroom door. There is so much pain in this room, in this life. And I can't bear the hurt it takes to look around me and remember. So one day, I am going to run.

But until then, I'm forever sitting as my bedroom door.