Brick Wall.

So I could not sleep a few nights ago. It was like my eyelids refused to close. I had to write something, and here is what I wrote. Forgive the lack of fashion in this post.

It started off early, this wall. Maybe one could say it was built brick by brick, cemented in between along the years. It’s a few feet thick and constantly growing in every direction. As soon as I could communicate, those dreaded bricks were being laid. One more barrier after another. If only I could have stopped it, if that was ever an option. Its curses are endless, but I know nothing else. I cannot recall when this brick entrapment was ever a blessing, but because of it I have formed many. It’s the wall that separates me from regular life. From social circles. From personal relationships.

For years I denied it, thinking I could take it down. I became someone else. Someone who would “fit in.” But it only left me on the opposite side of a wall with no idea who I was. It was in high school, maybe around sophomore year, when I realized I had no choice but to embrace it. By then the wall had grown to great heights. Social barriers stuck out like sore thumbs. My lack of communication and small talk were defining qualities in my personality. I may as well have been speaking another language, at least I would have felt like I had an excuse. But no, I had to come to terms with this wall. I had to accept that I was different. Oh, but little did I know that this would take years to learn and accept.

College has brought it out more than I ever thought possible. And the worst part is sometimes I forget it’s there. Or, rather, it briefly becomes invisible, and right when I am about to walk over the line it reappears and breaks my nose. It comes back with force, and pain. The worst kind of pain. It’s a reminder that I am not normal; I am weird. It tells me, “You cannot be like them, Makena, it’s physically impossible for you to be a normal 18 year old girl, so just accept it and back off.”

I have streaks when I love it, though. Yes, I love the wall. Though these feelings only exist when I am alone, imagine that. I thrive on defining myself. I fall in love with so many parts of life. I dream, boy, do I dream. Dreams are only worth anything in the comfort of my own bedroom. Because then I walk out and there’s that stupid wall causing these desires to come crashing to the floor. Then I don’t know who I am. Or I cannot show who I am, who I have become behind the wall.

Maybe this wall is the reasoning behind my intense love for my horse and the sport in general. They have no dreams so they can never be let down. It’s the perfect environment for imagination. They can watch the clouds all day long and think, with no walls, no interference. Horses have no social etiquette. To them, there is no such thing as a faux pas. With them is the only place I can feel truly comfortable. Well, with them and alone with the Father. He made me this way and I have yet to learn why. Oftentimes I wonder if other people experience this brick wall at times in their lives. I hope I am not the only one. But I would not be surprised if my wall is quite a bit larger than others’.

Now all I want is someone to throw a rope over the heightening wall and join me. It sure would be nice to have some company over here.