There are many hidden doors inside of her. Some she remembers closing herself, others she barely recalls creating. A few or them she tried open, but she couldn’t continue for the damage it’d wreak. She made certain to bolt those shut for good, even if that meant never experiencing things other people considered normal. She’ll never feel safe, not completely, not in the long run…She’s accepted that too long ago to worry over the fact. Hell, that was the first lesson, she learnt. There is no escape, not in the remotest of places. Not even with the kindest of people. Since then, she has become accustomed to living in a way that nothing touches her, until it did…
If she let’s go, she’s the only one to be held responsible. If she loses control, she alone reaps the consequences. When she lets her true thoughts slip, she must make amends no matter how genuine the hurt or justified the cause. Like any man, her freedom of thought, speech and belief is ridiculed, but how dare she when she says anything out of place.
The manner, in which she conducts herself mentally and physically is all that’s come to matter. Appearances above all, ain’t that right? So, the fake smile that comes so naturally to her since childhood never ceased to have its uses…Not because she doesn’t genuinely care, but it is second nature to pretend for the sake of social survival. At times, she wonders, what she is surviving for? If it is not to live, what then? Though probably she wouldn’t know how to live, if she had the choice.
When they speak, it is expression inside a safe space, free from judgement. When she speaks, it is the guilt-riddling, overly emotional ravings of just another bitch who cannot take it silently. So, she falls apart deep within for just a moment, before she comes back together. Perhaps she can never be good enough, but she doesn’t care. She will keep trying, even if those she cares for will never care the same way for her. Regardless how many simply think about nothing more than what she can do for them. They’ll always be there for the good times and gone for the bad…That’s how they remind her of what she truly is…She needs those doors bolted for that reason. If they’re not, there’s no telling what she’d do…but no deadbolt can withstand the test of time. Eventually, any lock comes undone, unleashing hell in its wake.
After all, keeping dark fragments of herself divided in cages doesn’t serve to protect her, but them. She learnt early, there are lines never to be crossed. Even when others cross them frequently, just to fulfill their own needs…and she would let them time after time at great cost to her peace of mind…until the end came to justify the means in protection of something greater than she could have been. In one half, it tore her open and left her more broken. In the other, she’s never quite broken enough…never suffered sufficiently enough to cease her pain.
…If she cared to, she could rip those doors off their hinges with a single thought…releasing what may seem like a controlled burst of energy, but is, in truth, an uncontrollable force surging through her that wouldn’t stop. It would never cease…It couldn’t. It’d dig itself deep into the most undepleteable energy sources and unleash hell on all things in her path without compassion, mercy or conscience. The abused would become the abuser in every sense of the term, as they so often do. That would be her, another statistic in a world lacking the capacity to turn the numbers around on a scale, which truly matters.
Searing pain reverberates up through every layer of her being …physical, mental, emotional…is there even a difference? Ultimately, the only way to never lose anything is to have nothing…to be nothing. Perhaps, all locks were made to be broken. Maybe, it was always meant to be like this. In the end, she was destined to come undone. Real love happens but once in life and she has already had her chance. She already experienced the heights of the unconditional beyond consciousness. It is what unmasked her her true reality by undoing everything she once was.
She slowly shuts her eyes, awaiting the inevitable. Silence fills the pathways of her mind. Barely perceptible vibrations bounce off the walls, echoing further than the eye can see. As door after door unlocks, she feels a release of pressure. For a moment, she is almost in a state of acceptance with herself…as always, before her darker impulses take over. The more doors, she opens, the darker the desire. Yet, she has never dared to open them all until tonight. Until now, she still had something to lose…
She no longer plays her most painful memories on repeat inside her head, just to remind her of what should never be forgotten. After the thousandth time, she hardly displays emotion upon recollection, but more importantly, upon confrontation. Behind every door lingers such a memory. Some are shut but unlocked, whereas others are secured with the greatest care.
Still, she wonders, what if she could face worse “doors-open” just to see how far she can bend…out of curiosity for what’s left when everything breaks…and she is unbridled by the illusion of dreams long passed.
The night forever dawns in her heart, and she prays for it to never end…for her to rest in darkness without hope of oblivion…just anticipation of unexpected transformation.
QuantumMediocrity 