My Door is still opened!!!

My door is still opened. Even after my home was hit by a storm. A storm that nearly wrecked my home. But I still have my door unlocked. It allows a little light inside. A light inside the dark house. The house that once was lit with colours, is now all black. But that little hole sends bit of light inside. This light makes the path visible and so it helps me not falling inside. I feel like I am a stranger inside my own house now. I don’t recognize the floors anymore. I don’t know how many creaks are there in my walls. I have forgotten what the ceiling looks like. I cannot believe that I am saying this, because three months ago I would have travelled inside my house with a clothe wrapped around my eyes. That’s how much I was acquainted with it. I knew all the creaks in these walls I don’t recognize now. I knew all the turns and stops. But now, I don’t even remember where the mirror is. I don’t know how I look now. Did my hair grow in the past three months? Did I gain weight? Are my clothes all loose now? I don’t know a thing about myself anymore. What is my skin colour? What is my height? Am I taller now? Prettier? Or am I just normal like I used to be three months ago? I don’t really know. I am just holding on to that little light that peeks through the opened door. But no one ever comes inside. No one wants to see the mess inside. Because everyone is afraid of what the storm has done inside. I know they have a right to be afraid. They don’t know how deep scars the storm gave me. They don’t know because I never told them. It’s not their fault at all. I need to find a needle and thread. There are some bruises I need to stitch. If only I can remember where did I have kept the needle. I know they look at my wrecked house through their windows. I can sense how afraid they are when they look at the house which is turning spooky second by second.They should fear and they all should close their doors tightly so that no storm could ever shake their homes. But a voice from inside my house tells me that this storm is necessary for everyone. This storm is what makes us stronger than before. I don’t really understand the point. I don’t know the source of the voice. Maybe I will someday. Maybe I won’t ever. I hate how I voice my thoughts. I don’t like this ability to write sometimes. It is excruciating. It drives me out of energy. I don’t like that I am waiting for someone. But I don’t know like I really don’t know why am I waiting for someone to come rescue me, when all I need to do is stand up, close the door and set the house back to normal. Just a little bit of courage is all I need.