Drawing Lines

As far as I can remember, I've been drawing lines.

Lines on the sidewalk separated me from my enemies during simple games in the summers of my childhood.

Lines appeared, pre-determined and strong, after I became the socially reclusive teenager.

Even now, lines are written on the walls of my mind that limit me from people, places and things.

Self protection, invincibility, independence, being cautious, being smart - you can call it what you want but I know now that it all boils down to being scared.

I boast that I've learned the joys of throwing myself head-first into the unknown knowingly but have I done that lately? The simple answer is no...

The easiest solution to this would be to stop drawing lines in my life and take a leap of faith. Instead of a do-not-cross I should instead throw myself a life line - a line to pull me out of myself and into the world.

I know that I would regret this choice on occasion because I'm bound to be disappointed. Who isn't after all? I figure that as long as I find meaning and beauty in the pain, I will be alright.

There's no way that I will become the cultured, experienced and wise person that I aspire to be if I stay within the lines I've drawn for myself.

In fact, despite all the horrible and hurtful things I might experience on the other side, I'm pretty sure that the view from there would be spectacular....