The House Within

The thoughts take form.
I step inside.

A door I never knew existed
opens quietly before me.

The hallway stretches endlessly,
covered in fog and forgotten echoes.

Somewhere ahead,
a light flickers.

I move toward it,
but every step pulls me deeper
into rooms I never meant to enter.

The walls whisper
with voices I recognize
but cannot place.

Pictures hang crookedly
on invisible walls—
moments I buried,
faces I remember,
versions of myself
I left behind.

I open the doors one by one.

Inside are pieces of my past:
words I never said,
dreams I abandoned,
parts of myself
I learned to hide.

I search for where I changed,
where I became someone
I no longer recognize.

But there is no single moment.
No place where I broke apart.

Only years of becoming.

I sit among the fragments,
letting the memories surround me.

Some are faded.
Some are painful.
Some still feel like home.

And for the first time,
I stop searching for the person I lost.

I simply sit
with the person who remains.

I trace the edges quietly,
learning the faces on the walls
were never strangers at all.

“The longest journey you’ll ever take is the one within.” – Anonymous