The Bedroom Window Goes Emo

I may not be able to keep you from harassing the door, but I shall close the parts that make you access the soul’s deepest secret garden.

It may seem like I am all shiny and new to you. But at my very core, I am worn out, dried up and exhausted. Nevertheless, I am duty bound to stay strong and sturdy and standing. Not just for myself, but for the welfare of those who take shade in the shadow of my panes. My panes must be stronger than my pains. Hurt only lasts for a moment, but we never run out of things to do.

When there is fire, I melt. When there are bashes that can crack the skull, you might easily find shards of me lying about. I don’t usually complain these days. I have learned it’s best not to be loud with grievances.

Cats walking on nearby roofs are my common fare; I keep them out of the house by shutting myself in. I only show whiffs of lightning to the ones who take shade under me during a thunderstorm. I shield them from painful realities that can break them to smithereens. I hold in as much as I can possibly hold. But when there is too much pain to the point that I wither into a useless piece of wood, I can no longer protect the ones I have promised to protect. I can only let go and let the chips fall as they may.

I am good at putting up a strong and shiny front. But there are things I deal with that people do not know. Underneath that shadow, I am abandoned. Rejected because I have been overused in the past; the last option among other fashionable windows that tell you they are brand new.

Taken for granted like the nearby furniture, but just as essential for the house as the doors and the flooring.

Without me, there will be no regulated air passing through nor covering in extreme heat. I am the exterior shock absorber– mute to my own needs but always ready to be the shoulder for the people who like to rely on my quiet skills. I am your breath of fresh air. I am your shield. I am the thin skinned individual that tries to be more than what it is- a struggling and surviving piece from a broken home.

I breakdown, you know. Tears splay around  and I mix it with the pelts of rain so that it will not be as obvious to the common eye.

Somebody seems outraged at my coping mechanisms and throws stones to elicit the response that there is pain and suffering hidden somewhere in the folds of the curtains.

I seem strong and put together because my work demands me to be so. I weep quietly when everyone is asleep. I make sure that my emotional needs do not overstep the demands of my work. I make sure everything stays delivered. I hold the ceiling and the floor together at my end to keep the whole house from falling apart and becoming useless. Because if my work falls apart at my breaking point, there is not much to live for at all.

With life shattering events, I have prudently and gracefully learned to accept and painfully feel the void that has been left by malfunctioning attachments. In time, maybe I can replace what needs to be replaced. Little room there is for pity or for blame; I am only objective and fueled by the desire to move on and get going. And I suggest you do the same, outraged bitter soul.

Having said all that and letting all the stress out just this once, I bid the secret garden to bask in the stillness. This is the calm after a longstanding and overdue storm…

And finally you dear and worn out soul, you can now prop up your feet and rest in me. You are safe. You are free to move and to be yourself. Sleep sweetly tonight with your thickest blankets up. And if ennui bids you sleepless in this very night, I invite you to prop your feet up, chill out with a good book and soon, this painful phase will ebb away like waves on the ocean surface.

As a window, I exist to remind the people around me an important lesson:

It’s never an evil thing to close your doors and windows on entities that threaten to steal your sanity, kill your verve for life and destroy whatever self-respect you have for yourself.