My parents used to tease me over the fact that I spent to much time in the closet. They discover me there more than once. They worried about such eccentric behavior. "They would tell me to stop this action and come from the closet."
The truth was I felt most comfortable in my closet: protected, defended, safe, and most important free to be myself. I loved that closet. Closing the doors and to the outside world was the only way I felt I could be myself.
Each day I would come home and fire up my television and read books of far off lands. Places I knew deep down that I wound never visit. I was happy in side that closet of mine.
Soon I talked my dad into moving a larger dresser into my room and I cleared to cloths from my closet and it made it even better. The television I placed on a shelf inside the closet and I talked dad into letting me have an old car seat. That was the biggest closet I ever owned. All the rest just weren't deep or wide enough. I invited a friend over once he saw the humor of my closet. The jokes started, and the names that hurt and our friendship ended. He lacked the foresight to under stand the pain he cause me both at home and at school.
I left my closet one day and never returned. Cloths and boxed filled the gap in my life. I miss the good old days of disappearing into that closet. Late my junior year in high school, I moved in my brother’s old room that had a closet with no doors. I moved my television and home computer into my brother’s dark room. It was another closet on the other side of the house over the stairs. It offered the needed protection but little ventilation.
If you haven't figured it out sometimes a closet is just a closet and one guy's closet can be another guy's 'Man Cave'.
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