Trapped Behind Graffiti Walls

She spent her whole life building walls.

Solid enough to keep even the strongest from getting near.

Walls built to protect herself.

The house built within these walls was far from vacant.

The walls were furnished with infinite stories from the past.

All of her hushed desires that she kept from the world.

Hopes and dreams and visions of what she thought life was supposed to look like.

Memories of everyone who had ever let her down hung like ornaments as a constant reminder to not let a single wall fall.

Every misconception from the world, combined with the damaging force of her cruel inner critic, painted each wall like graffiti.

Walls charred from fires set by the people we least expected to carry a match.

Constantly assuming that her open wounds will never have a chance to heal if she allows anyone past these walls.

Life is less complicated when you don’t allow anyone close enough to hurt you.

When the only person that you have to worry about judging these decorated, well-built walls, is yourself.

Determined to keep the world out, she renovates the outside of these walls with all of the shallow pieces of her that she has learned to describe herself as.

She uses labels the world has strapped to her and roles she fills to describe herself.

She goes through the motions.

Existing as a shell of herself. Convincing herself that she’s fine.

That everything is fine.

Anything beyond this would risk vulnerability.

Exposed. Weak. Defenseless. Open to attack.

Unaware of the injustice that the outside of these barricades do to show who she really is.

She stays hidden behind the walls she felt obligated to build.