A guest in your own house
A poem about feeling as though you don't have control over the conditions of your life, your own body
I feel as uneasy as a guest, not knowing where to stand, or where to hang my coat, or why on Earth I was invited
Too uncomfortable to make any noise, create any ripples, in a place that ain’t mine
Having trouble remembering that I’m welcome, and this is my own body
Surely if I say anything, express any needs, show any sign of discomfort, I will be kicked out
Rude
Disrespectful.
Surely I will break the harmony of the place, and forever be banned
But where else could I go?
This is my only home.
I don’t like how the room is arranged, but oh well, what can I do? It’s not like it is my place
Oh but it is
But what if I decorate it to my taste, and my guests don’t like it
What if there is nowhere for them to sit?
What if they get offended, what if I break the rules?
Will I have enough time to take out the decor, if they come unannounced?
Will I ever feel at home here. if I never stop treating myself as a guest?