maybe we're not meant to build walls for the wrong reasons. we build walls to keep others out. we build walls to keep ourselves safe. we build walls to keep our seclusion from the world. we build walls to prevent ourselves from being hurt. yet there are also doors. perhaps we are meant to open our hearts like doors, and let in the strangers we fear. perhaps, they are more like us than we care to admit. perhaps, they bleed just the same. maybe compassion is more necessary than safety, maybe in vulnerability we will find our strength.
attempting to grow
i try not to close my heart. because a closed heart can be as dangerous as a closed mind. yet sometimes it seems so necessary to protect myself. some people can only destroy and wound with their words. they know not love or light and i don't know how to teach them or if i even can. sometimes i close my heart not to hurt people, but to keep myself safe. sometimes i need security in a place of a madness because this world gives me so much anxiety. maybe one day i'll be more trusting, but i need someone to prove that everyone isn't the same first.
hearts like doors can not only open but close. i try to keep my heart open, but people prey on my kindness and mistake it for weakness. they don't understand that the kindest people can also be the meanest when they snap, and as a moon child i can attest to the fact that i am a hurricane once provoked. i will destroy all your bricks, mortar, stone, and wooden places. everything you find sacred will fall should you provoke me—i try to remain open, but sometimes it's better to be closed. i don't know all the answers, i only know i've been injured too many times to remain always open.
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