I want to make my life a bedroom

"There's a world/where I can go/and tell my secrets too/In my room, in my room/In this world/I lock out/all my worries and my fears/In my room, in my room..." - "In My Room" by Best Coast, Make You Mine

"I'm sick of you."

They teach you in psychology about the "just noticeable difference", the minimum amount of difference necessary between two objects to notice a change. The JND, as they call it, is susceptible to changing "magnitudes"; that is, the difference of, say, the weight of two items is easier for us to notice when the objects are smaller. But as the magnitude of the weight increases, our ability to notice a difference becomes muted, requiring a larger actual difference to trigger detection.

"I'm sick of you."

If the weight of our sadness had been smaller, would I have been able to discern our just noticeable difference?

"I'm sick of you."

In my mind, I am looking for the signs, the JNDs I must have noticed but chose to brush off. "Life changes fast, life changes in the instant. You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends," Joan forewarned.

"I'm sick of you."

These four words, so truthfully uttered, were the larger actual difference, the trigger for me to finally understand that everything in my life has changed.

I didn't realize how much I actually relied on you being there for me until you were gone. You promised you cared about me, you promised to be my friend. "Life changes in the instant." Life changes in the moment of just noticeable difference, when you realize everything you were relying on has changed.

I want to make my life a bedroom, I want to close the door and be able to pick and choose what belongs here. I want to feel safe again.