I feel like this place isn't real. 

I feel like this phase can't be real. But every time I cross that threshold, every time I smell that air. 

I shake, I fear, I crumble into something so unreal. 

I feel this pain, this hurt and betrayal. I feel this numbness, this crackling numbness. 

Like for all my fear, this cannot be real. 

I cannot walk into this very room, this room of sanctity, of hope, of joy. And feel something so real. Feel the moments of a story I begged day after day to not be real.  

The memories that flood, the frailness of my sanity. The pain endured not so long after entering this room. 

This room that is supposed to feel safe, this room that is supposed to feel whole. 

This person was supposed to be safe, this person was supposed to feel full. 

And yet empty is all I feel and pain is all I imagine, amongst a room of people, in a house wide spread, in a home I can't call home. 

Welcome is what they say, paralyzed is how I feel. 

This room is my safety, this room is my hope, this room is my past and this room is my ghost.