Behind Closed Doors

MWhen the door closes at midnight, it’s just me and my modestly sized room filled with material goods and a heavy heart. When one door closes, another one opens.

Nobody knows what happens behind these closed doors on tough days. I put on a mask and brave the day, not letting my personal emotions affect others around me. After a long day of playing pretend, I shut the doors, hang my mask back on my clothing stand and face my emotions.

I wipe off the layer of makeup which conceals my flaws, pale face and show tell signs of massive sleep debt. Beneath the enhancement lies my true emotions. Weakness, sadness, emptiness written all over my face. My skin loses its dewiness, eye bags becomes prominent and eyes looking droopy.

I lie in bed, confronting my raw emotions. Letting myself immerse and truly feel what I’ve been keeping inside as I went through my day with my emotions shoved aside. As tears began to soak my delicate pillowcase, my heart feels slightly at ease. It feels like the weight I’ve been carrying around all day has finally been lifted. Sometimes, all you need is a good cry and to truly feel vulnerable before you feel alright again.

Vulnerability shouldn’t be seen as a sign of weakness. There shouldn’t be a negative connotation attached to it. It shouldn’t make a person feel helpless.

There are days when nothing feels right, days when we feel sad for no apparent reason. There are times when we feel what our heart feels, days when our emotions overtake our thoughts. It consumes us, fills up our head and aches our heart. It is a sad reality that we will never have 365 days of summer.

As I bring myself back to reality after a good cry over a persistent heart-aching thought, my eyes naturally become puffy and my body feels tired. I feel exhausted physically and mentally. It’s a sign I should clock in my hours before my sleep debt increases.

I begin to slowly drift into deep sleep, my heart still feels slightly heavy, it still hurts. But it hurts slightly less than before. It’s a temporary escape which I can depend on when I need comfort. It’s a small getaway that my heart deserves.


That white wooden door of mine which is plastered with pictures of good memories has seen more tears of mine than anyone else had. This will always be my escape route when the going gets tough. This is how I face my emotions.

It is a battle I fight on my own and I am my own contender. There isn’t one battle more significant than another. It all boils down to how we want to face it and how much are we going to let it entangle in our daily lives. May the best man win in keeping their demons inside.

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