The World at my doorstep

The world is at my door. Knocking, banging, asking to be let in. I do not wish to let her into my space, into the confines of my area so I cover up in haste. I dress in black as to not be noticed, in hopes that I blend with my shadow and disappear out through the nearest exit. The musty air of lingering despair releases through my windows, I turn on the water so my scurrying footsteps may not be heard. I must bathe, I must shave, I must clean up before the world barges in.

But a globe may not enter through these small doors. The roar of billions screaming, teaming up to rush in at any moment, to question me and ask, to poke and prod, to examine without an approving nod. The thuds grow louder, I turn small with anguish, my tongue forgetting language and my legs languish at the thought of millions of people thundering in through my bandaged door. It will break, it will give way.
”Dear World, why won’t you go away”, I say without much conviction. She will not leave and I will not stay, I would escape through these windows if only so foolish to think I would fly away.

“I am not ready for the world. I am not ready for the world”, I utter to myself in regret. I should never have ever called her, she should never have been here. I thought I would leave her as I had found her, without much damage, with the healing hands of time to manage so she may forget she was once mine. What a world she was but I did not expect to see her again. I stammer and I stutter, “Go away.”
A roaring laughter and echo of my words is all she has to say before she smirks, huffs, puffs and threatens to blow my life away.

I give in and open the creaking, cracked door. But there is not a scratch or hint of person, not the world I expected nor the sign of a mass dispersion. It’s all in my head, I tell myself. I no longer hold my breath but now I know that if the world comes to my door, I will gladly wish to let her in once more.

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