Creaking of the hardwood

Im sat still while everything in and around me whirs.
Behind me something inhuman shuffles from room to room, dragging its weight so I may imagine its shape.
While a man on a screen holds up something he screams will save me, but I can't quite make out the selling points over my internal buzzing.
A flash of color, a single word,
a million 1/2 thought out thoughts all paired with varying degrees of aches and pains, all humming together, all at once, its all too much, its all the same.
But I keep my eyes locked on the polarized lights dancing in front of me; while looming figures with faces I refuse to see poke their heads around corners watching me.
I can almost hear them murmuring, criticizing.
Turn the volume up on the tv.
Something turns slowly within me.
Memories of those who once meant so much to me,
And the realization that all I have now is that which haunts me.
That which I refuse to believe sits with me.
muddied silhouettes in my periphery.
Only that which I allow can hurt me,
But I lack a fundamental understanding of what I fear.
Too scared to ask the questions that matter.
Too cowardly to utter what they long to hear.
Im sorry.
I forgive you.
Instead I cloak the mirror.

I'm sorry.
I forgive you.