Curious I walk up to a shelf, because really these things can't be bigger than the palm of my hand and I'm itching to see what's inside them. I take a step towards the nearest shelf and almost immediatly step away. What's inside the tiny, glass globes? Me, or at least a version of me. In each and every single one there is a tiny version of me.
This is confirmed when I walk around the room, just glancing at the snowglobes, but never really seeing what exactly is inside. What is this place? As soon as the thought comes to my mind a door materializes and I open it. On the other side is my usual mind scape.
My meadow filled with colorful gas clouds, my strange, lovely willow and small pond with poppies and forgetmenot's. So this must be the bird room, except it's changed, because I'm no longer suppressing my emotions nor letting them run free. I've changed so the room has morphed as well. Curious, how very curious.
The room intimidates me, but I return to it, because I have to learn to understand it or at least try. Emotions were never and are never going to be my strong suite, but I refuse to go to a psychologist that will tell me what they mean, so I'm gonna have to figure them out, little by little.
I return to the previously abandoned rack and this time carefully pick up one of the globes, surprisingly the tiny me inside the globe reacts to this movement and sticks her tonge out at me. She than goes back to jumping and running around. She seems to be ammusing herself and if I bring my ear closer to the container I can hear laughter and her voice.
This must be ammusment. It's hard to think this is anything else really, specially since the me in this looks to be a few years younger. I place the glass back and a label appears with the word 'ammused' written on it. One down, only a billion left.
Instead of going for the one next to it I choose one off a different shelf. This me doesn't react to being picked up, just curls in on herself a bit more and continues to stare out the glass. Saddness, maybe but it doesn't seem quite right. I continue to stare at the globe, when I notice that tiny me is holding something. They look like pictures, but I can't make out what's on them. This must be longing then. I put the glass down and again a label appears.
I do this a few times, identifying anger, sadness, joy and boredom, until I stumble upon one that frightens me a bit. It's hard to describe what emotion this could be, but tiny me is older than me, her shoulders are droopy and her hair is shaggy. She looks much too thin and is starring at the sky. It feels like I'm intruding on something, which is strange because this is my mind, but I feel an intense urge to look away. Still I observe what's going on in the sphere, because curiosity run's through my blood. I should have looked away.
Older me looks up straight into my eyes and smiles the saddest smile I have ever seen before saying something and taking a single step forward. She's immedietly swallowed up into the darkness and I drop the globe to the floor. I stumble to the door and quickly try to escape from the room, but suddenly the door is gone and I'm stuck, stuck inside this dark room filled with things I barely understand.
That was older me, being swallowed up by darkness, but not just any darkness, that was her giving up and taking that one step needed to end her life. That globe symbolizes utter defeat, being completely crushed, having your will to live drained out of you. I knew that I had such a dark side to me, it appears fairly often in my thoughts. I even have a fucking end date, but seeing that dead and broken look in my eyes with the saddest fucking smile on the planet. It makes me want to throw up. Instead I end up dry heaving on the floor while my body shakes. Whether it's from fear or disgust I'm not sure, but all I can do is wait until it passes.
After what feels like an eternity my body seems to calm and I stop shaking. I look for the fallen globe expecting to find shattered glass, but instead see it intact on the other side of the room. Slowly I grab it and find myself slightly relived to find it empty. I don't look at it again worried that I will reapper, instead I carefully return it.
A label pops up, but for some reason I can't seem to read the words written on there. I must not have understood it completly, which means that's something I'll have to reviste. Not something I'm looking forward to.
Looking behind me I see the door and decide to try it again. This time it's unlocked and I can't help, but let out a relieved sigh. I never want to come in here again, but I know I'll return. This is something I have to do in order to grow as a person.
