Imagine yourself
inside your room
hands pressed firmly against your door
the only door that leads to you
There you stand rigidly
inside your room
it’s small
and safe
It’s everything you’ve ever known
It’s the doll with one remaining leg from the dollhouse your grandfather made
The twenty-five-year-old red sweatshirt with a hole in the sleeve from where you got it caught in the fence
It’s old letters and cards from before you were alive
It’s emotions dripping off the walls
It’s lyrics from songs you used to sob to
Simply put: it’s comfort
But when comfort takes over
growth wilts
I stood there
for far too long
not letting anyone or anything in
But I could hear them lining up outside of my door
knocking
begging me
to release my grip
and open the door
just slightly
until I finally did
I peered out and
what was waiting for me outside the feeling of comfort was
intangible at first
until
I opened my eyes wide enough
to touch it
and what had been lined up for me
began aligning itself
with me
I did not have to force anything
First I let my arms relax
then slowly
my entire body
until I was a puddle
or better yet
a stream
The stream
I float on now
guides me
if I don’t try to control it
I see smiling faces looking at me from the banks
I smile back
I laugh very loudly
I don’t quite see where the stream takes me
but since it’s lined by
the most friendly faces
cheering me on as if I were running a marathon
I trust it
I trust now
in a way I’ve never trusted before
and I know that’s because
I let go of the idea
that I had any control whatsoever
over this life
and when I did
I found
unimaginable joy
