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There are parts of me I’ve avoided for years, like rooms in an old house I used to live in but can’t bring myself to visit. You know the kind. Some hold memories I thought I’d forgotten, others just.....ache without reason. And the funny thing is, I walk past them every day in my thoughts. I know exactly where they are. But I keep the doors closed, as if not looking directly at them will make them disappear. It doesn’t. They stay quiet until something cracks open the handle, a random dream, a song I haven’t heard in ages, or someone who sees me a little too clearly.
It’s weird how we convince ourselves we’ve “moved on,” when all we’ve really done is put up wallpaper over things that still hurt. We go to work, reply to texts, laugh at reels, and keep pretending like everything is light. But underneath, there’s this unspoken weight we carry. Trauma we didn’t ask for. Loneliness we learned to hide. And the worst part ? Most people around us are doing the same, just quietly dragging their rooms behind them, hoping no one knocks.
I’ve started realizing that healing isn’t about becoming “normal” again. It’s more like visiting those rooms with honesty, sitting on the floor, and letting yourself feel what you’ve been avoiding. Sometimes that means crying over things you thought you were done with. Sometimes it means forgiving someone who never apologized. And sometimes, it’s just telling yourself, “Yeah, that really happened. And it really hurt.” No fixing. Just feeling.
We all have rooms like that, versions of ourselves locked behind shame, fear, or simply time. And maybe we’ll never open all of them. Maybe that’s okay. But if even one door creaks open, and you walk in, and you make peace with something you’ve been scared of, that’s not weakness. That’s bravery. Quiet, slow, unglamorous bravery. And honestly, that’s enough
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Charli3
I can't seem to stop myself from putting up the wallpaper, even when I know all it does is hide the original paint from view. It's still there, still a part of me.
honestly yeah i get that sometimes it just feels easier to leave the wallpaper up like no one’s really tryna repaint the whole wall every time life gets heavy lol it’s still there we know it but hey if it helps us keep going that’s fair too
by twinklelore; ; Report
BULLET
It's a simple analogy that carries heavy meaning. You don't want to visit those rooms too much, or you'll never leave them behind. Personally, once I leave those rooms, the doors to them are not only closed but they disintegrate.
that’s such a powerful way to put it and i get it completely like for some people the only way to survive is to burn the whole room down and never look back and honestly there’s a kind of strength in that too not everyone has the energy to revisit what broke them and that’s valid but i think for others the room stays not because they want it to but because some parts of us don’t disintegrate they just linger quietly until we’re ready and maybe that’s the difference between surviving and healing both are brave in their own way and it’s okay if we choose different paths to make peace with our pasts
by twinklelore; ; Report
gr4ce
this reminds me of the grief people face, whether it be grieving someone you used to know or the dead. the one thing about grief is that it is love with no place to go, hiding parts of yourself from the world, sometimes only parts someone else could bring out.
there is a quote i really like about grief, "they should invent a grief that doesn't define you in new and strange ways for the rest of your life." "to do that they'd have to invent a love that doesn't define you for the rest of your life, i think..."
That's a really great and deep quote , ty for sharing 💐
by twinklelore; ; Report
Ievuks
Most people hide those rooms even from themselves, denying that they exist. No matter what memory, feeling is in that room, we'll have to enter it sooner or later
True....
by twinklelore; ; Report