A little something about my closet…

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I want to tell you a little about my closet, my home, where I live.
It is a tiny tiny room, with enough space to fit just me.
Wherever I go, my closet comes with me, surrounding me.
I have never been anywhere without it, it is my constant companion.
With wooden walls so thick that nobody was able to break in.
With a door so tightly locked that no-one was welcome.
But my closet is heavy.
It’s dark.
It’s lonely.
It’s suffocating.
It’s a burden to carry around.
A burden
Because it’s the proof that I’m not the change I wish to see in the world.
It’s the proof that I do not practice what I believe in.
It is the proof that I am a COWARD.
I hate it, it’s asphyxiating.
Yet, I stay in.
Reminded every second of the day, by its walls, by its locks, by its darkness that has somehow been able to reach up to my lungs to prevent the words from coming out, that I’m living a lie.
That my limit, is not the sky, no, it’s that door.
How sad.

One night, there appeared in my closet a dim light; a light of hope, change, courage? I don’t know. All I know was that there was a light.
It was the night I found out about Meem.
I read about Meem.
I read and I read and with every article, the light grew brighter, with every story, my heart grew stronger, and with every accomplishment, one bolt on the door was unlocked.
My door is now completely unlocked, all I have to do is open it and let people in.
One day it fit just me, the next two people, a week later three, and it is now making room for three hundred and more.
When I first went to the house, I felt, for the first time in my life, how the world looks without my closet, without the walls, without the shields, just me.
How transparent.
I was not used to this at all.
I felt like I was wearing see-through clothes.
My deepest darkest secret was now a fact; I wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t.
But when I leave the house, my closet is waiting at the door, as if saying “wein baddik trou7e”.
And I step right back in. Willingly. Pathetically.
Some days I open the door and peek out at my family, I imagine them inside, with me.
No, I imagine I am outside, with them.
This day will come.
It will.
And when it does, when that day arrives, when I step out of Meem’s house to head home, see my closet waiting, with a big smile on my face, I will grab that ax, and smash it, smash the hell out of it, pour gasoline on the crumbs, and set them on fire, then I will pick up the ashes, and put them in a jar and let them feel how it’s like to be forever confined.

Oh by the way, no, I don’t hold grudges.

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