My 'Secret' Hideout

So this is what solitude (somewhat) feels like.

I do realize that this is still public despite the fact that my identity is more anonymous than ever, having excluded personal details that are usually shared willingly, and using a different online handle rather than the one I've been using ever since I was 15.

It's rather like moving into a new house, in a new neighbourhood. You lie down on the floor of your soon-to-be bedroom and take in its emptiness, the blank white-washed walls, the silence that sometimes seems too loud. And then you begin to sing; softly at first, testing your grounds, amused at how your voice skips around the room like a frivolous child. And then you sing louder but still with slight restraint - someone might be listening just beyond your walls.

I relinquish this moment of anonymity, of feeling as if no eyes are peering into my room and exclaiming how empty it is.

In whispers: No one can see me.

I need to disassociate myself from people who make me feel bad about myself. It is not their fault; they are but my insecurities that I cannot reason myself out of, and the only thing I can do is hide.

But for now I write as I want to, rant as I did once upon a blue moon ago.

Too bad I'm my own automated gatekeeper.