To the hole in my wall:
You let in all the noise from the street; yes, every single night, I hear cats meowing, drunks singing, sirens wailing. The hole in my wall leads right outside, and has no care to the state of my ear drums.
You let in all the cold; it is winter nine months of the year, and for those nine months I live with you whispering into my ear. Your breath chills my neck, and covers me in goose bumps. I’ve piled on the blankets, but nothing I do, NOTHING, will get me anywhere with you.
You let in the bright light of the sun; we live on the horizon where there is always a fiery sky. All hours of the day, and the few hours we can call night, the light streams in. All hours of the day, I get no rest.
You do all of these things and more. There is no getting away from you, the hole in my wall. I’ve done what I can to pretend you do not exist, and only now am I sharing the awfulness you put me through, day in and day out.
I suppose, now that I have said it all, I look to you now. I observe your shape, your depth. I peek through you, trying to see the world as you do. It is all very new. With time, I know I will learn from you. If all else fails, I will stopper you up with that white goo, plaster you up like the rest of my perfect wall.
But, even then, there will be a scar, a remnant of what was once my hole in the wall. It is settled then: either I bury you, or I learn from you. Now that you know what I think of you, it is only fair that I know what you think of me. Am I oblivious, obnoxious, narrow-minded? Do I snore, growl, or scowl at the sight of you?
Let me know, little hole. Perhaps you are not so bad after all.
This is a story I wrote during a short free write during today’s writing workshop class. Our assignment was to write about someone in our life that we have an unresolved problem with, and then attempt to resolve it.