A sanctuary feels like such a greedy thing to ask for.
My troubles consist of crowds, social interaction, and general human emotions.
So I emphasize: a sanctuary feels like such a greedy thing to ask for.
Shouldn’t I be grateful others want to spend time with me? To take time away from their busy days to speak to such a quiet person?
I don’t feel much aside from exhaustion.
And so, my sanctuary is a hoodie.
It’s nothing special, just a light gray cloth with a location of my last family trip stamped on the front.
I wear it everyday, washing it until the fabric grows thin and the previously soft features grow hard. I carry it around like Linus does with his blanket, squeezing it when I feel afraid.
One spring, I was told to put it away because of the heat. I did, and I haven’t worn it since.
INSTANT NOODLES 