Where No One Knocks

I built a place where no one knocks. No doorbell. No footsteps. No voices that ask, “Are you okay?” It’s quiet but not peaceful. More like forgotten. I sit with my thoughts. Not because I want to but because they don’t leave. They circle like flies on a wound that never heals. I try to distract myself. Phone. Music. Noise. But silence always wins. People say “Come out.” But how do you leave a room that only exists inside you? A room with no map. A room made of secrets, shame, and stories I never told. So I stay. Not because it’s safe but because it’s known. And sometimes known pain hurts less than unknown light.