You get caught in patterns and within those patterns you find comfort. This space is known. It is safe. You can--you have--lived here.
This safe space, it's like a box. It has impenetrable metal walls. It's bulletproof. It could shield you from the crushing impact of a speeding train.
Within it, you have survived.
But the box doesn't fit you anymore. Right? You bang your fists against the sides. You hate this fucking box.