Doorways and Exit Wounds

I’ve always been fascinated with learning where all the entrances and exits are in a building, restaurant or location. Between my 80s upbringing, the Die Hard movies and my mom’s military training I always knew these doorways, elevators, staircases and windows were important for my survival in case of an emergency or threat. However, I have to question if I am truly looking for the exits because I get distracted watching those that arrive. It feels me with excitement to check the exits and my heart swells with joy when someone I know serendipitously arrives. Today I day dreamed what if would be like of Koji, my imaginary friend from Kindergarten, materialized and brought with him the Mazinger Z. That’s the kind of unexpected thing my heart desires to find as it scans the room. The impossible come to life; a safety net to appear or a familiar face that can save me from this provincial life.

Sounds ridiculous, right? My introversion knows no bounds. Sometimes I blurt out how I feel about my saviors in the middle of the most awkward settings. Work, school or a parking lot, it doesn’t matter to me. If the timing is right I’ll go for it. Similar to an emergency scenario, I spring into action the moment my heart bubbles up an emotional response. This has caused many people to bolt for the exits too which I am more than happy to point them out. When you have loved as deeply as I have the exit wounds start to show. You learn what triggers people to move away from you and what level of intimacy destroys weak bonds. We all have secrets we want to keep for ourselves. Being found out by a close acquaintance can be devastating for private person. In my case, the secrets get revealed to me at which point I become dangerous, a liability, and am quickly and quietly discarded.

There is no exit wound too small or bearable especially if it traveled close to your heart. Even though it missed killing us entirely, a piece of you dies whenever you get disposed of this way. The shot through the heart would have been merciful and immediate avoiding one the pain of living eternally with the memory of the assassination attempt. Any relationship that is attacked this way becomes delirious and dies a slow and agonizing death. It can grow comatose and silent for years until one wakes up because the injury was reopened by aleatory events. You never know when the PTSD of the shock will be triggered. Hard to live knowing a part of your soul is lost forever. However I won’t lose hope that love and faith will see us all find that kind of love and affection we all deserve. After all, it is in part why we live for.

Love, and share your umbrella. Our love should be kind and compassionate, not selfish and disheartening. There’s strength in numbers. May the lessons learned be what you need to survive and become a better human. Hugs!

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