I look around myself, seeing nothing. It’s so lonely here. Where am I? What’s going on? I wonder if anyone else is out there.
I reach out. Not far from where I stand there is a wall. Slowly, I run my hands along its surface. Nothing. It’s so dark in here. I’m so lonely. Why am I all alone? Why does no one come to get me out of this place?
There is a corner, and another wall. I reach along this new wall and find a second corner. My head brushes against something. I reach up in the darkness, feeling for it. I wish I knew my way out of here. I’m so lonely.
Above me is a chain. I pull it. A light comes on, my beam of hope.
The light is faint and weak, yet floods my small space. I am in a closet. I am not here by choice, yet it is a closet of my own making.
Cautiously I reach forward. My hand is on the doorknob. Do I really want to do this? Maybe it’s best I stay here. What if no one likes me? What if they’re mean to me? What if they hurt me?
But I can’t stay here. This place, it’s so small, so lonely. I have to be free. At the very least, I must see what’s out there. If I don’t like it, I can always come back.
I turn the doorknob. It gives easily and without sound. I stick my head out. It’s so bright out here. Such a wonderous place, but so different, so unknown. I duck back into my closet, leaving the door cracked.
From my closet, I look out. A few people glance my way. A few more stop and talk. I push the door open more. They notice how different I am, but they don’t care. After a time they ask me if I’d like to go with them. I tell them I’m not ready to leave my closet, it’s all I know, all I’m comfortable in. I don’t want to bother people with my differences. But they persist and eventually the get me to step out further.
At first I’m scared. What will everyone think of me? But I’m with friends, so it’s okay. It’s wonderful, being outside here, in the sun. I find the more people I come across, the less they are bothered by me.
After a time I return to my closet. But I do not go inside. I can no longer go back in that space, that limited, suffocating box. As my friends watch, I pick up an ax and swing with all my might.
Smash! Part of the boards fly in. Bam! Another side caves to create a hole. Crunch! The door falls off the hinges and shatters on the floor.
After a few more minutes and several more swings, my closet is nothing more than a pile of splinters and broken wood on the ground. Nevermore will I return to this closet. I no longer have a refuge to hide in when things get rough, when people start to threaten. But I also no longer feel like a prisoner. At last, I am free. Free of all it’s confines and darkness.
And in my new home there will be no closets.