I always had a lot of physical space, as far as I’m concerned. My own room, privacy, maybe even a little too much. What became more and more tight is the space inside my head. The space between my thoughts, where I’m allowed to breath. It feels like there is no air between my brain and my skull.
It is not a constant, but rather a wave. This feeling goes up and then goes down. But it is never trully gone. Just like the sea, it is always there, regardless of how high the tide is. It sucks, really. To not be able to control the flow inside my head. I wish it was like a room. A nice, cozy room that is eventually going to get messy because I use it all the time. But if I take a day off to just methodically clean and organize everything, it will be as good as new.
Space is not only something you need to distance yourself from others. It is also something you need to distance yourself from your self. Seeing things too much from your own perspective makes the world fuzzy, hard to stare at. You are never fresh, never ready to overcome your feelings in order to see the truth. In this day and age we got too used to things following things, without any room between then. There is always something useful to do, somewhere amazing to go, someone better to be. And nowhere is a rocking chair, a couch, an armchair with fluffy cushions for you to sit and just enjoy, you know?
So I get stuck between thousands of walls with no door, no window. The more I live the more I learn that having space to just be free, unshackled from the senseless and insane speed of the spinning world, is more important then having a big house. You can live your life inside a mansion, with opportunity to travel everywhere, and still be inside a prison. But if you have a head room where you can just breath and accept life as it is, then even a real prison becomes a joyful space to live.