Jello

Someone close to me recently told me that the walls I build around myself are made out of jello. This gave me pause. And, while I haven't quite heard it phrased in this interesting way before, I certainly have wondered about my Nathan Walls. What they mean, and what they're made of. I do think many of my walls are definitely some yummy flavor of cherry jello. Thing is, I work hard to keep them edible. I think it takes faith and courage to keep stacking the jello cups in the refrigerator of the soul rather than replacing them with concrete. So, onward, jello, onward!

There is a whole level beneath the jello that is maybe the more interesting level. I'm not sure. I don't even know how much this level exists. There are rose bushes with thorns there, and ancient bricks, and plenty of barbwire. This is where I feel most vulnerable. People can get to a point with me where they think, "Yay! He's so great to sit and eat jello with!" and then a thorn pierces their tongue, and I feel bad, but I'm just so scared to let people past these next walls sometimes.

I'm willing, though.

It's all about structure.

Structure involves building things in the most pure ways possible. Some parts get put together quickly, and others take time. This whole "Things take time" and "This too shall pass," fuck, these concepts really frustrate me! But I do take comfort in their implications. There is a passing. Things do get accomplished. Relationships meld together into the strongest of castles where moats are just a memory.

Underneath the thorns and barbwire and bricks, there's just this weird land of unicorns and ladybugs and owls. They're all hanging out, eating chocolate, and they are eternal. And through all the other muck we go through--isn't being a human so damn hard sometimes?--we know we can chill in the forest and climb hills and frolick by the stream and have great bonfires with people who mean the world to us. Sometimes you have to burn the woods to grow something even more beautiful.