My father always said that everyone has built up barriers around them. Some have brick walls, hard and thick clay, sometimes they're so fragile you can't see them at all.
Some are like glass, you can still see through them, and you can always see the person on the other side. You can see fragments of your reflection in those glass walls sometimes, but it's hard to notice the other person if you're focused only on yourself.
Father said he hated these barriers the worst of all, because it was so easy to take them down, but they hurt when they shattered- you could feel the sting of each fragment falling down. But, whenever you took a wall down, even if it didn't seem as safe any more, the view was always much better.
But that isn't the case for me. Glass... glass is so easy to break if you know how to crack it right. No, that wasn't the case for me.
Doors... those were the worst kind of barriers for me. Because you can look through the peephole of a door and know that a person is behind the door, and you can knock and pound and press the doorbell, but if that person behind the door is determined to keep you out and themselves inside... nothing works.
And they lock the door, and the worst feeling you have is that you wish you had the key... just to open the door and see the person inside. You know you don't have to allow the walls to crumble down in order to get through to them... you just have to get through the person on the other side. And if you ever hurt them, they wouldn't have to take time to build their walls back up. They could always just close the door.
But this was never the case for me. See, they say that when God closes a door, he opens another, someplace else. The problem for me was that... well, I'd only ever had doors slammed shut in my face.