I live in a 10×10 bedroom. I eat here. I sleep here. I work here. I watch TV here. Thanks to delivery food services and grocery, I don’t really have to leave the room at all except to shit once a day.
It can be a lonely and depressing world inside a single room but at least I have social media. It’s not quite like prison because of that. I can be funny and cause people to smile on laugh I can find joy and education online.
Unfortunately, my confinement is not soundproof. I am affected by the emotions of the man on the other side of the door. Things are going less well for him. He rolls through emotional extremes ranging from a rage hot enough to punch through walls to a hour long crying spell when one of his many pets is distressed.
There are very few in between periods where he is quiet, or at least not loud enough to break into my world. He is either yelling or weeping a lot these days, and his mood has helped change his whole personality dramatically in recent times.
It distresses me. I fear strong emotions in others and cower when loud noises are heard. I don’t handle it well, even if I remain behind closed doors away from it.
Today it’s bad. His favourite cat died and his mother and sister visited. His emotions are all over the map. Add to this, my suspicion that he retreats to his bedroom to snort a line of cocaine every hour or so in a failed attempt to settle his nerves.
He is breaking. He has crossed over a mental line and now spouts horrid conspiracy theories about our government. He rants continuously with fear about our future, and our present and disconnects from any relationships that try their best to convert him to their side. It is offensive to him to be wrong. Everyone else is.
I feel this single room sanctuary may soon be unsafe for me, or at least, be unhealthy. It is hard to watch a proud man crumble and break do badly.
I’m uncertain what to do. I just hope I can hold my poo till he falls asleep.