Safety.

I feel like I’m eternally struggling to find safety. A constant. When I was a child and couldn’t make my surroundings safe, I fabricated safety in the shape of an imaginary world. I was highly obsessive about books and video games because they gave me a safety I never thought I could get from the real world.

As an adult I’ve repressed my imaginations. I avoid video games. I don’t read as much. I’ve been trying to find a physical representation of safety. My home has always been the primary area I’ve tried to focus on. My home should feel safe. Or be as close to safety as I can get.

It seems like my safety is ruined by people. Corrupted and ignored because my wants aren’t valid. I’ve allowed myself to be put into situations before that tested the very fabric of my mind. As I grow older I allow it to happen less and less.

It’s still shocking when things happen to test me. I’ve had to work hard to find any safety, any constant that I don’t understand how other people could so easily disturb others. But I guess I have to realize most people haven’t had to struggle with it as much as I. Everyone’s perspectives is so different than mine. I’m having a hard time not feeling completely distraught over others perspectives, and their inability to see mine.