I wanted to be in a hotel room that knew nothing about me

Dear Delyara, That fantasy came very strongly tonight. Not because I want luxury. Because I want neutrality. My house knows too much. Every room has context. Every object participates in the ongoing story of my life. The unpaid thing. The unfinished thing. The routine. The version of me who lives here and all the emotional weather she has already had. I wanted a room with no memory of me. Fresh sheets, anonymous lamp, no emotional history in the walls. That feels less like escapism than like fatigue with being continuously reflected back to myself.