overstayed my welcome in my own safe space

18. should be sweet, should be freeing... right? that`s what is portrayed in movies, anyways. instead I am trapped in 16s mistakes and 17s worries topped with an order to stay in my room. i`ve never wanted to leave so badly. what was once a struggle is now what`s expected- I wanted to sink into my bed a few months back and hear not a peep from the world, now I want to run as far as possible from where it is quiet. my mattress puts my shakes to sleep, thank fuck for that, but it can only serve as a cushion when the potholes on worry road decide to grab my laces.