knocking down these walls

Do you have walls?

I do.

Plenty of them.
Miles high.

When I read this postcard on PostSecret, I wondered about my walls.

There's a pretty good bricklayer that lives in me. She's a patient worker; painstakingly slapping cement between blocks of special bricks that create a nice illusion of a healthy, happy person on the outside, whilst keeping the gloom on the inside. These walls fiercely protect my being that sits at the core.

Every once in awhile, a piece of brick crumbles through wear and tear, after reaching a point where it needed to just... crumble away. The sun, wind and rain, alike our every-day pressure, stress and pain, punch holes in the walls. Here... There... When this happens, a select audience is allowed glimpses of the veils of confusion that surrounds the core, ever tumbling, ever spinning around, creating a mess.

Different people see different things, through different holes in the walls. What they see, are what they're allowed to see. They try to make things a little better, try to put things in order so that it becomes more humanly habitable. Their hands reach in and hold mine, their words comforting, encouraging. The chaos settles down to an acceptable level.

Once it quietens down inside, the little bricklayer does her work again. Slap on some cement, put up a brick. Patch those cracks. Bit by bit until the walls are nicely repaired.

Did I build these walls to keep people out? Or, like the postcard said, to see who cared enough to break them down?

I think I build them because...

I need to keep the chaos in. It gives me a sense of control. It's too scary to let it all out. I just might drive people away with all that baggage.

But oh... this little bricklayer gets so tired.

Tired of making sure the holes are plugged.
Tired of sealing up the cracks that appear.
Tired of ensuring only a small section crumbles at a time and not everything at once.

And yet, I can't help myself.

Will I be building these walls forever?
I don't know. I hope not.

Will they come down like the Berlin Wall?
I hope someday,
They will.

Maybe for a start,
I'll build some windows to let bits of sunshine in.

Say hello if you're passing by, will you?


Technorati: personal, melancholy