How it feels when I feel good inside

There are very few moments when I am at peace with myself. Because most of the time, I am recruited to fight some battles that are not mine and I am longing for those years when I had my own troops. Still, once in a blue moon, I get to feel good on the inside.

On the inside, it is always bright. In fact, the sun goes down just for a few moments to freshen up while some bluish evening takes its place to entertain me. Inside, I don’t have a bed; I just sit on crispy green grass. All the windows are open and the red transparent curtains are always blown by a sweet Zephyr. I don’t have a computer; I don’t have chairs, so my guests have to sit on the grass with me. There is no kitchen and no place to leave their shoes.

Inside, I live in a house but I go out on the balcony to hang my laundry: squirt little thoughts and wiggling shiny memories. When I am happy, I would invite everybody up. Well, there is a little man who welcomes my guests saying “all righty” if he likes the person. But generally there is no problem with him because eventually he lets everybody inside.

As I said, most of the time it is not like that. It doesn’t always look like a garden party on a Sunday afternoon. If you pass by my house, you are most likely to see that the lights are off, the windows are shut and the ivy is crawling on the walls. I don’t answer the door and I am not opening my mail.