I did not post curated photographs to prove to anyone that I was thriving.

I wanted something far simpler, and far more valuable than any of that, something I had not possessed in ten years and had not even realized I was missing until it was gone: a front door of my own, that no one on this earth could open without my permission.

That was all.

That was everything.

After a decade of living in a house where any of three people could walk into any room at any hour and dictate the terms of my existence, the single most luxurious thing I could imagine was a lock that answered only to me.

I have it now.