I'm scared, but I'm not sure of what though. I lay here, in the safety of my home, but everything feels wrong. My heart is racing. I find myself staring at dark empty corners. I feel anxious, not tired at all, even though it's 3 A.M. I'm safe. Yet I don't feel like it. I feel as if the walls are slowly closing in. I feel as if at any moment the shadows that seemingly creep along the floor will attack, enveloping me into their darkness. I'm safe. Yet as I type these words I feel uneasy. Like a figure is watching my every word. Laughing as I scan the room, hoping not to find staring back I'm safe. Yet I find myself cringing at the thought of another being breathing in my wake. I'm. Safe. Yet even the sound of my own voice, the subtle sound of the small fan, and the slight hum of the TV in the living room make me shudder. And when the fan stops, when the shadows grow closer, and the ever looming despair surrounds me, I begin to realize.
I'm not safe.