Sunday, January 16, 2011

My Padded Room.

Nothing is more frightening than the feeling that life and its circumstances have you backed against a wall. Luckily for me, my back is pressed against a padded wall which absorbs a great deal of pressure.

The walls are worn and marked with outlines of my struggles. They cushion each blow even as the round buttons that connect the stitching press into my body, reminding me that the wall is there. The buttons make an impression upon my psyche, often my soul, to remind me of the beating.

The padding reminds me that I'm confined in an insane asylum. The cushioned walls confirm my sanity while the pressures that pound me against the walls confirm the insanity of life.

I'd rather be bounced around in a padded room of reality, a room that absorbs the blows of supposed normalcy, than be backed against a wall of sure and solid concrete that is unforgiving and definitive.

Lock the door and leave me to my own devices and I'm free. I can flop and bounce and fall and punish myself without fail. I can scream and flail and ramble and mumble while bnging my head against a wall that accepts each blow with impunity. I'll grow as a creature of insanity because of these padded walls of life.

My world and the future of my world is padded. I have no bleeding from my headbanging and insanity. The walls of my life are padded with white buttons and sturdy stitching.

What do your walls feel like when you are beaten?


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