The Space I Don't Take Up

Nobody ever belongs anywhere. The world is not a club where only the most extroverted and courageous of people get in. People just find themselves in different places. I've found myself in a make believe room. There's dark red curtains that I usually keep closed. There's leather bound books that I'm not interested in reading. There's a few books that my soul demands I reread over and over again hidden among the classics. There's cotton candy which appears on my tongue, and hot tea always fills the mug on the table next to my chair. My whole being is contained in this room. My identity lingers on so many objects like a horcrux I never meant to create. One might think having myself divided amongst so many things would make me an empty shell of a human. Instead, I keep all these bits of me inside my heart. My skeleton acts as the walls of my treasured room, and I am full.