mental mortar

Long ago, I built a wall to protect me from harm. A solid wall, from behind which I could look at the world objectively and without passion and see things clearly. Inside that wall I made another to hold all my emotions; love, hate, envy, jealously, happiness, greed, joy, lust, anger... but not fear. I faced down my fears long ago and only two remain, and those two I look in the eye each and every day. And behind this wall I build up all the energy and passion of these emotions into a spinning ball of chaotic wonder. Every so often I allow a little crack to form in the inner wall, sometimes quite willingly, sometimes against my better judgement, but because I have no fear of it, these little cracks happen and some emotion spills out. When I need to patch the cracks, they seem more like gaping chasms and I inevitably have to deal with a maelstrom of emotion that wants out, that wants to force its way through the cracks and break down my wall. And the fight I face, the horrible spinning my mind goes through, totally wears me out while I patch the little cracks. Not so unlike what most people have to face, it isn't a unique thing, but I think it is inevitable that one of these cracks will break my wall down and sever my tenuous grip on what little sanity I've ever possessed. No fear, fearing the inevitable is irrational, it's just morbid curiosity; when it happens, what will happen next.