Nostophobia

As I recline on this couch
This worn-down heirloom of a piece of furniture
I have all but claimed as my place of sanctuary
I stare at the clock.

The second hand clicks audibly as it passes
All twelve numbers
So significant to life
The markings of time passing me by.

86,400 more seconds
And I'll be in tomorrow
The same time, but completely different day -
And I can't help but watch in fascination.

Light wrinkles make their way through my face
As if tracing a pathway
To get to know it better,
Starting with the constant furrow in my brow.

Inside, I panic
This isn't the life for me
I'm a girl who wants to be somebody in life
Not yet a woeful watcher of time.

I cannot allow myself an escape, however
I cannot be self-permitted to step outside
And greet the fresh air with every pore in my body
Then step from the wood of my porch.

I can only imagine the forbidden joy
Forbidden because I wont allow it
I would silently proclaim, "I am finally here, world!
And I have awaited you as you have awaited I."

Oh, how I would love to leave
To begin my life, to truly live;
But to leave this sofa
This wretched house that morphs my perception
And smells of everything foul
My mind has turned it into a pit
A pit of everything I despise
And I hate it.
But my family is here
Memories
Stability
My only true area of utter safety
I am stuck.

But to leave, even for an instant
I know that in that instant
Without a second of hesitation
I would never allow myself to return.
And I cannot do that quite yet.