Quiver

The Opening

One of my four walls shattered. I didn't destroy it. It wasn't because I made it happen. Perhaps there had always been an opening, and one found it. Yet I have no way of knowing if there was malicious intent.

I backed away. I went to the farthest corner of my box and hid because I wasn't ready to leave. If I was leaving it was on my terms. But going as far away as I can from the open wall doesn't close it. It's still there. 

Now I wonder, were the people I loved on the other side really people who cared for me or just an illusion? I suppose I'll never really know until the box is gone. It's not gone. It has to stay that way until I'm ready. One day I will be. Today I am not.

I'm terrified. They're able to see through now. They can't know the option is there.

Light is coming in. But I won't touch it for I am afraid it too was cold all along. What will I do without my walls? I'm vulnerable. I can't stop it. I can't rebuild it I can't close it. I'm helpless to it and it terrifies me.

Do I run to it or away from it?

Perhaps neither for I fear that the ones I love only love what little they see through the tinted glass and not what's actually inside. Or worse, the ones that held their hands to the glass were actually trying to break it to strangle me. 

I take it back. There's a way to remove the opening. But it will remove an important piece of me as well.

I can trust no one with an open wall. Close to nobody sees it, but I know they could find it. And then the light will be cold, or maybe there will be no light at all. Or what I fear even more- that it wasn't glass but a mirror, and everything on the outside was a reflection.

For then there is no hope at all.