Comfort Zones

You know that thing when you were little, the whole “if I can’t see you, you can’t see me” deal? I don’t know about you all, but I don’t think I ever out grew that instinct.

When ever the weight of life is particularly heavy (bills, thesis deadlines, work, growing pains, etc.) I tend to do this thing. I go into my closet, turn off all the lights, and lay on the floor in the dark. There isn’t a world outside that dark little room. Sure, you might see a girl laying in a pile of dirty clothes in the dark, but I know better. I know that she’s picking up the little pieces. (And yes, go ahead and make your in the closet jokes – that’s not what this is about…)

I’ve found that things tend to sort themselves out in my closet. Plot lines fall into place. Characters’ motives become clear. I make a plan of attack for laundry. Then, when I come out, the world doesn’t seem so tough anymore.

Everyone needs a comfort zone. I don’t think it really has to be a particular place either. I used to like to sit on steps. I know that’s weird. But when I needed to think, I’d go find a step in my college dorm, or outside next to my parent’s deck, even in the house. I don’t know what it is about a flight os steps, but before the closet I was a fan of steps. 

But maybe that’s just me? 
What about you? Is there a place you like to think? Read? Write? Hide from everyone?

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