walls .

For me it's inescapable. But I feel like we all put them up. Some build them up higher than others... I have a tendency to build mine sky-high and then make sure that all the cracks are mortared tight with no way in. And when you cram yourself into one giant cement igloo, the options of outside contact are few and far between. And it gets to a point where you're not sure what you want to do. Because it seems like every time you open a crack to peek out and smell the roses, a whole flood of shit comes tumbling in, making you feel the need to rebuild that wall even thicker than it was before.



Now, I doubt I'm the only one who has realized that they block a lot of things out of their life, not to mention a lot of people, too. Life is not easy, and it seems that often times it's so much easier to just close yourself off, ignoring all that goes on around you. The pain, the hurt and all of that, it just disappears -- if you block it out well enough.

I don't often open up easily and I struggle to find the right words to say if I'm having a deep conversation with someone. If that alone even happens in and of itself, they should consider themselves quite lucky. And yet to some extent, I like being closed off. I like hiding it all.

For the first time, this blog is an outlet that other people actually see. Though I write in privacy, the words are public. The sentiments are real, and the stories are real. I don't make anything up, I don't exaggerate.. it is what it is. This isn't a life of fiction. This is me.

The first walls were from the rest of the family. My relatives tried to tell me how to run my life. My parents nagged me and bitched at me about everything, and it seemed like no matter what they were never satisfied. My brother has the only handle on an outlet. He's the only one I trust. He's the only one that I could tell anything, and probably the first person I'd go to if I had something I couldn't tell anyone else.

Fast forward. Friends began to dissipate and while I settled in with some, the relationships became fragmented until they were gone. My youth group was the one place where you could be real, the one place where you weren't judged, the one place that wouldn't come down on you with a condescending tone that would make anyone shudder. You don't know what it's like to live in a town where every parent hands the world to their kids. You don't know what it's like to watch others roll up to school the day after getting their license in a brand new Mercedes or BMW of their choice. It's not the things that piss me off -- it's the people. I wanted that shit out of my life as soon as possible. People ask why I go to school in South Carolina -- there's a few reasons, but that's sure one of them. I couldn't wait to get out of the town I was in, where I felt like I had to build a literal fence just to keep out the arrogance and the lavish luxury that spread like a disease. I'm sick of this place. I'm straight with Jersey, but man, Colts Neck.

You should see the look in their eyes when you tell them where you're from. That warm feeling you just got was replaced by some sort of inherited hatred. They knew what it was like here. They knew about the giant houses, they knew about the cars, they knew about the landscaping and the pools and the parties. They knew about the availability to drugs and alcohol and they knew the suppliers. I was good friends with a middleman myself. Ask and you will receive -- you know the right people and you can get anything. Get me out, man.

And so I blocked it all out. And once I was off at college, the people of what I called home faded. Then I got rid of my facebook, all of a sudden not another word has been spoken between me and those people in over a year. I'm home and still haven't spoken a word. There's maybe one or two I still talk to. And those walls will continue to thicken and the more they build, the harder they are to break down, the harder they are to eliminate. And even worse, the more my apathy builds in regard to getting rid of them. Life is easier when you don't give a shit about anything and don't worry about anything but watching your back. Yeah, I have goals, aspirations, plans for the future. And that's not to say I'm some heartless joke who gave up on life. But if you're going to get to know me, and really get to know me, it's gonna take time. Probably a long time.

When you get hurt, it gets worse. Working to get through the scars isn't easy either; they heal thicker than the skin that was its predecessor. I don't know what the rest of life holds. And I can only hope for the best. Maybe I'll work on changing those walls, on rebuilding a different sort of foundation instead of walling myself in. Sometimes it's like I don't want to show the emotion. When someone asks how you're doing, you answer good, regardless of how you really feel, just to avoid a conversation, or avoid talking about the crap you deal with daily. It's just easier that way. You can call it lying, I call it avoiding.

I'm open to letting people in. There are some I feel close to -- quite a few at school. And I'm thankful for that. Like I said before -- I don't know what the rest of life holds. But the walls, for now, it's almost like they work for now. I'm not trying to fix something that ain't broke.


[quick note... was immersed in Eminem when I was writing this... so bear with me if it sounds angry]