these four walls

These are only walls. They are not my chains, and they have no power over me.

It's Thanksgiving Break now, and I am at home. The room I had in high school is now an office, and my bed is now in my sister's room. She likes the guest room better though, so I'm staying in her old room now. I hurt my sister in the past, and it wasn't until the end of my senior year of high school that I started repairing the damage that had been done. Sleeping within these light blue walls now brings back all my regrets, and with that a heavy heart. But they are only walls, and not my chains -- they have no power over me.

When I walk back into my old room, I remember the many nights I would lie awake at night in high school. I could see the moon through the window from my bed, and I would look for God in the sky, begging Him to forgive me for always giving in to my sexual addiction. That room brings back those memories of frustration and failure. But its bright pink walls are only that -- walls. They are not my chains, and they have no power over me.

There are many good memories in this house. But, of course, there are bad memories too. And it's strange how coming home brings the bad to mind, overwhelming the good. My heart is heavy, and I feel like I am backtracking. All the progress I made during my time away from home -- the relationship with God I have founded, the friendships I have formed, the mindsets, emotions, and perspectives I have developed, and the character I have refined. My family is made of the people who know me best, who know where I have been, and they can best judge me.

The temptations are greater here. I am more prone to loneliness, to boredom, to fear, to sin, to addiction. Because while I call this place home, this place holds my past. And when I am home, I am more inclined to be who I was before. The walls of this house are watching me, trying to overpower me and bring me to down -- this state of claustrophobia, chains around my heart and mind, the devil prowling by my bedside, waiting to master me.

But my God is protecting me. And these are only walls. They are not my chains. They have no power over me. My God is greater than this house.

And the devil's a dirtbag.