Thought Catalog

You don’t exactly know what you’re doing there, in that room, in that bed. You recognize everything, of course — there is still that same stain on the ceiling you cannot stop staring at over their shoulder while they are on top of you — but everything has changed somehow. There used to be a warm, calming feeling of “You belong here” that washed over you when you laid your head against this very pillow, but now you feel that the scenery has changed since you last left the territory. Where you were once greeted as welcomed royalty, now you are a stranger who is being aggressively asked to show their papers. That couch, that toothbrush, that hand towel — they all want to know what you’re doing here.

There is also the familiarity. It becomes like a kind of drug, something you can’t take big enough hits of when…

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