- username;; trans
name;; wicker
gender;; male
their secret place;; wicker's secret place depends on how he's feeling and why he needs to be in his secret place.
when the world is too much to deal with and everything feels stiff and heavy, muffled—when the pressure of something, something big and scary and sinister and foul looms over him—when each and every word feels forced and his chest feels tight and constricted—wicker retreats to the attic to hide from the outside world for a little while. when he goes to attic, he goes to think, and doesn't really talk nor feel reason to (not that there's anyone up there to talk to anyway). the attic is the place for secrets not yet shared, for confessions not yet confessed, for silence, and wicker finds solace in the quiet safety of the attic, away from the prying, judging eyes of his peers. books line the walls of wood corner to corner, every square inch available that isnt being used overrun by thick and thin, old and new books alike. wicker can spend hours up there, reading his books and getting lost in his imagination and dreaming of better places he wishes he could see and feel outside of his dreams. he can get lost in thoughts of worlds beyond his own.
when everything is crashing down to the ground, bridges burning and skyscrapers toppling in on themselves—when the heat of the moment gets too hot and threatens to consume him from the inside out—when he feels like screaming but can't get the words out and nothing else would be loud enough to get his point across—when what he thinks and what he feels conflict with each other and make his head spin—wicker goes to a secret cove by the beach. there, with the waves crashing and the sound of the ocean swooshing in his ears in time to match the erratic heartbeat in his chest, he can let loose, yell 'till he's hoarse and revel in the fact only he and the ocean can hear him, look as stupid and ridiculous as he wants without being questioned, and cool the burn that squeezes and presses painfully on his heart every time he breathes. the ocean is a place of solitude, a place of freedom, a place where it's normal and even encouraged to get a little wild and let out some of the pent up emotions you carry inside you. the ocean wont tell anyone what you tell it, it believes in you, it knows that you can accomplish whatever you set your mind to (it's seen it many times before, with all the others who came before you), and it greets you every time you come to visit, like a grandmother who gives her grandchildren a hug and a cookie every time they come over.
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