June 30, 2009

The walls had been built up so high that they were virtually indestructible. The mask was on so tight that not a single soul could rip it off. The door was locked with thirteen different deadbolts; each one a different excuse, a different reason. The timeline was set in stone and the plan was official.

There would be no changes. Absolutely no changes. No need to tear down the walls. No need to take off the mask. No need to unlock the door.

No need except that there was a need.

There was a need for relief from the lies believed. A need to let go of control, of the so-called plan, of the fictional timeline. A need to let it all just happen, to let the feelings surface completely and not be smothered away.

And when the walls fell down, everything shook. Everything that was held up for so long. Everything that was deemed unchangeable. Everything that was a false definition of what is supposed to be. The future was more uncertain than it had ever been before, but more certain at the same time.

And she called it falling.
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