walls & trenches
I’m sitting here, thinking about everyone else’s posts and what I feel I need to say. Not so much about their posts but about my life, and how it’s interesting that even here in xanga we’re all on similar wavelengths.
I feel caught and trapped and not sure where to go with it all. You see, I’m in this tricky little spot I’ve gotten myself into, and I don’t particularly want to get out of. I’m where I want to be, and I don’t want to leave, but I’m tempted to run, mainly because that might protect me from being left behind.
I’ve learned some lessons in my short life (I’m only 22, still young enough to know I’ve got a lot of learning to do, but old enough to not be stupid). I’ve learned that people love you and leave you. That people die, they run away and they just can’t make it work sometimes. I’ve learned that sometimes it really is “something I’m going through.” Sometimes it really is “me, not you.” I’ve learned that love’s not enough. There has to be more then love, but that you’ve got nothing without it. I’ve learned that sometimes it doesn’t matter how hard you try, how hard you work, that things just might not work out – but that you have to work as if it’s not even a possibility.
I’ve learned that death is a sweet release and a painful rupture to the fabric of life. I’ve seen so much pain and hurt, and somehow I still wake up in the mornings. I’ve learned that life’s not worth living if you don’t even try to smile. I’ve learned that behind most of well-adjusted scarred people is someone who is scared of needing, caring and wanting someone else in their lives. We’re all frightened we’ll lose them. Death and loss come all to easily in our little world.
I’ve learned I am loveable even though so many people haven’t been able to love me. I’ve learned how to love, even when the I know the person I love isn’t who I need. I’ve learned that being afraid doesn’t mean backing off or having to hide.
You see, I learned, once upon a time, how to build these walls. I took a brick at a time and built these beautiful structures that allowed me to sneak out once and a while and take a peak at the world around me, and never really involve myself in it. I learned how to let people look in, without really letting them in. This way I could let people care about me, and take their warmth, but I wouldn’t get hurt when they left. I could let them go without another look, without all the pain involved with losing someone you love.
They’re very nice bricks. They’re this gray stone color, all about the size of a regular brick. Many of them are mortared together, and make nice little places to hide behind. They make me look strong. They make me think I’m safe. They make me look like I’m big and proud. They shield the fact I’m small and fragile, that I don’t really know how to let other people in behind them. The hide that fact I’m convinced that behind these walls is a country so scarred by the past strip mining that no one is going to want to vacation here, let alone move in.
The funny thing is how they’re laid out. You see there’s no happy building, no castle of strength. There’s just walls. There is a house in the middle, and it’s a big one. But outside there’s just random walls, some connected, some not, some just behind others. They got built as defenses were breached. One by one, when someone snuck in a new way to hurt me, the walls got built. Sometimes these walls get in the way of other, kinder people trying to get in.
Around this central house is a trench, about 5 feet deep and about 3 feet wide. It goes all the way around, and doesn’t really add to the landscaping. There is a well kempt yard behind the trench. Lush greenery, some nice boxwood bushes, some nice flower beds. If you’re standing inside the trench it looks really nice; if you ignore the random walls out past the trench.
Now this why I feel kind of trapped: I’ve let someone get to the trench. I’ve been ripping walls out and resisting the temptation to build other ones. Only a couple other people have made it in. My Ashlen got in, I think only because she came in really slow. See, this person has managed to make it to this trench in record time. And it’s making me nervous. I think part of why they got this far, this fast, is because they were vouched for. People who are standing around here, have said it’s ok to let them in. Everyone’s been so welcoming and ok with everything. In a way that’s making me nervous too. Part of it is because other people have broken down walls that they would have had to work past, but since they’re gone now, it’s not an issue.
I can see them, standing over there, looking over the trench at my nice well kempt yard and there’s a glint of interest in their eyes. They’re intrigued. What kind of flowers are those? How cool is it in the shade of those trees over there? What is in that house on the hill? They see the shadows dancing in the windows and they want to see what’s in those rooms. They have this urge to explore those hallways and see what beauty might be in there. I see their interest in having a picnic lunch under those shade trees, and going for long walks on sunny afternoons.
The more dangerous part is – I see myself wanting to let them in. I want those long walks, and cool summer afternoons. I want a life full of the passions and joys that I hear promised on the wind. I want to go sit with them on the porch and sip wine while we watch the sun go down. I want to go run in the fields on a spring afternoon and touch the growing life there. I want to go with them to listen to the music played on gentle instruments of life and death, and relax in the beauty of it. I want to struggle next to them, I want to hold their hand as they cry and I want to be the one to give them a hug when they rejoice. I want to be able to go play in the snow, or the fallen leaves and have them want to be with me. And I believe they will.
I’m not afraid of letting them in. That makes me very nervous.
What if it’s a grand let down? Maybe the intrigue is just that, and there’s nothing grand and beautiful behind those shadows. What if there’s no wonderful music, no amazing summer nights? What if it’s all a pipe dream?? I just don’t think it is.
I’ve seen other people living the dream. It takes work. I’m not afraid of work. I don’t think they are either. People say that when it’s right you know. I thought I knew before, with someone else, but I didn’t really let them in and they really didn’t want to come in. This isn’t like that. I want to let them in. They seem to want in. I think the time is right. I think I know. I think this might be what I've been hoping for. It might not be, I know that. Everyday they've been getting closer and the sun's been shining brighter. I see them just at the otherside of the trench now, looking over, looking curious. I want to let them in.
Do I dare to dream this dream? Do I dare to hope that perhaps the time could be right to let someone else inside these walls and trenches?? | 
if you only knew.... 
yes... yes....
