These Walls

January 17, 2009
I’ve been wearing these masks for so long, for as long as I can remember. For so long, I’ve been what ever people want me to be, who ever, but somehow I convinced myself that I was still in control. I’ve been hiding behind these masks for so long, no one even knows the real e anymore, heck I con’t even know the real me anymore.

I’ve lost myself in this whole masquerade.

I’ve been hiding behind these masks, and walls for so long. I can hardly remember when it stated.

All I remembe is that when I was little, someone hurt me; probably not that much, but enough to hurt a little girl. That’s when the wall originally came up. It was weak made of nothing but hope, hope that someone would care enough to just blow it away. And anyone could’ve, but no one did.

Then by the fourth grade it had grown taller and wider, filled with questions with no answers. Wonder of why it was still there. Why no one would grab something, kind words or a gentle touch, and break it down.

Now though, it has many layers, and is as tall as it could possibly be. Distrust, guilt, agony, hate, pain are what it’s made of. All the hope has seeped out of it, the questions still unanswered. The sting of its cold surface surrounds me, there’s no longer a way out. I’ve stopped wondering why no ones come along to break it down.

People always think walls are made to keep them out, but for me its as much that as to see if anyone cares enough to break them down.

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