Duodecad.

I’ve lived a comfortably sheltered life. Not too many atrocities or catastrophes to speak of; no bone crushing smashes against the hard and rocky bottom. It is safe to say, that nothing too bad has ever happened to me and while some of that can be chocked up to luck, much of it can be attributed to my very well stocked armory of defensive weaponry. I’ve got walls in front of walls, in front of walls, in front of metal gates. I’ve got a tongue that is connected to an arsenal of emotion-seeking missiles and psychological time bombs. I’ve got an impenetrable force-field and arms that are deceivingly long to keep you at a distance. And what this has achieved for me is a mostly contented existence. Not to be mistaken with satisfying or exciting or the stuff books are written about. It’s been clean and neat, and not a lot has happened…

…and that’s finally starting to make me wonder: what happens when you realize your personal defenses are so strong that they keep more than just the bad stuff out, they keep it ALL out?

For as introspective and in-my-head as I am, it has only recently occurred to me that my walls are so high, so indestructible, so efficient that they’ve now evolved into walls that actually push things away. It wasn’t enough that they were simply blocking things out, they had to keep you back, too. Which would be perfect if they could decipher between the good and the bad, but alas, my walls have not evolved that much.

And that’s the things with walls and personal defenses; they don’t just keep the bad things out. When you concentrate and focus so much of your energy on keeping things out, you will succeed, which then becomes your failure.

I’ve spent an immeasurable amount of time calculating my every move, big and small, as to avoid any sort of discomfort. The fear and avoidance of normal, average pains and injuries has turned into a full fledged battle against living. It had been assembled with only good intentions (keep me from hurting, from being scared, from doing the wrong thing) but just like the old cliché chants, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” And wouldn’t you know it, the heat is taunting every hair on my body and the sweat is blurring my vision.

If it were that I just wasn’t inviting people to come and play, it could be fairly easily remedied. But the fact that I’m actually going out of my way to keep people at a distance is a different story entirely. The habit leaves me feeling more alone than I ever thought was possible with the additional, bitter after taste of knowing that it is completely in my hands. But how do I break down a wall that was so perfectly erected? How do I keep the missiles in their silos and the bombs buried deep beneath the ground? Where is the off button for my force-field and the reverse for my “go-go Gadget” arms? How do I quit a habit that I so deliberately created and practiced that it has become a force all its own, almost separate from myself?

Because I want you with me. I want you by my side. To feel your warmth. To hear you laugh. To catch your tears. To see your smile. I want you.

And I don’t just want you inside with me, protected by my walls. I want you to help me break them down. I want you to want to break them down. I don’t want to keep you out anymore, and I certainly don’t want you trapped inside with me.

I want freedom. Sweet, sometimes painful, sometimes uncomfortable, sometimes catastrophic, sometimes bone-crushing freedom.

I want it all.

Not a life half-lived inside too strong walls.

I want to live.