Once upon a once upon a time time time I gave up on my life—that is I gave up all the things that make life worth living.

Like hoping, wanting, wishing—in fact I gave up as many feelings as I could get rid of.

Strange how that works. You decide—only semi-awarely—to stop feeling pain.

You put up a wall—invisible, impenetrable—surrounding you.

Seems reasonable enough. If the wall is thick enough, no one can hurt you, disappoint you, reject you.

Right?

But the wall takes over—develops a life of its own. What you don’t realize— what I didn’t realize— is that sooner or later you find yourself trapped inside. Not only can nothing get in— but you can no longer get out.

Walls are funny things. They don’t discriminate at all. You build the wall to keep away the hurt, the heartache, the pain, the possibility of disappointment.

But the wall doesn’t stop there.

As hard as a little love, warmth, laughter, pleasure may try to get in, they cannot.

You may scream, cry, plead, pound on the wall with your fists, but it refuses to budge.

No love is able to penetrate the wall, either in or out.

You find yourself trapped in echoes.

You see what you think you want on the other side of the wall.

But by the time you get it—the wall is invisible, remember?—it is no longer what you want, or ever wanted in the first place.

Sooner or later you stop beating your head against the wall, catch on to the hopelessness of it all, and give up the search.

And so begins the endless game of ring around the rosey with yourself…