I am a bricklayer by trade. I build walls because the act of laying brick by brick gives me a point of focus, a fulfilling purpose. I build walls because they make me feel safe. I build walls to prevent possible threats from the outside, however walls cannot protect me from voices that lie within.
Happiness can only truly be found in the present and yet it is so easy to let our minds live in the past or according to an unseen future. With the same appeal of lacing up an old, beat up pair of converse, our thoughts habitually return to that familiar place of comfort.
Locked safely inside an impenetrable box or free to roam the earth as I please one thing is certain, I will remain. I can no sooner escape from myself whether I’m wearing four inch stiletto heels or footwear suited for running.
I was once under the impression that if I picked up and moved again, started over in a new place by my own hand, I would find happiness. Happiness would spring up out of the greener grass in which I planted my fresh seedlings.
I have come to realize that happiness is not a memory, a destination nor a permanent state of being. It is a choice I make for myself every single moment of every single day. It is a choice to accept who I am and where I am and make peace with the things I can and cannot change.
In theory, building walls can seem like a full-proof plan. I’m sending a reminder that not only will those walls at no time protect you from yourself, but walls are excellent at obscuring goodness. In an effort to anticipate danger, you risk blocking out the sunlight.
I know the dark whispers you keep, for I hear them just as clearly. I can’t intercept the messages reaching your ears, but I can write you a letter confessing that you are not alone in your struggle. I’ll keep writing, if you promise to keep fighting.