It's a world filled with lots of white space, happy spots full of the most joyous, bright colours.
There's no one else around...
... Just me.
I can run, dance, sing, scream and cry to my heart's content, in this little world inside my brain.
This little world is a canvas that I go back and add to, from time to time.
Sometimes I go back and I'm quite content. I'll happily choose a corner and paint or read or do nothing but listen to the quiet.
Other times I'm angry, but luckily I can usually find plates to smash or a unlucky nameless person to rant at and I quickly become calm again.
But when I'm sad it becomes much more difficult to enter into that little world inside my brain.
I can see the places where I once felt content, the broken plates on the floor that I defiantly haven't cleaned up, all amidst the bright and happy colours I've painted all over.
But I can't move and I'm terrified. Stuck.
I have to imagine the spot where I stand is the canvas on which my little world can be formed...
... Because if I'm not allowed over there, I'm going to make here as good as I possibly can.
Continually this spot has become a 12x12" piece of white paper.
I can travel all over; make the world whatever I want it to be.
The colours and designs? They're all mine.
The stories I tell? Mine.
The spot where I'm stuck expands one piece of paper at a time, everything is so colourful and feels so wonderfully mine.
This little world inside my brain, slowly but surely, gets more and more lovely every day.
And I am so thankful.