Student Essay

Everyone Has An Untold Story Hidden Behind A Freshly Painted White Door…

By Gabriella Davis

We are all like fragile glass shattered and chipped in the same places but for different reasons, we became an artist painting fake smiles. Saying happy hellos playing a role that was assigned to us before we were born. We hide behind freshly painted white doors. Wondering how your life has gotten to this point. Placing your headphones in your ears, volume all the way up blocking the world, blocking the people, trying to clear your minds from the gutter of the day. Who are you when the light are out and it is 3 A.M.? What memory do you have on repeat? Telling yourself that if you had said this or did this you would not be in the position you are in. Remembering an argument you had in 2011, staring at your white ceiling imaging the stars chasing the moon.

When your wood floors have now become a river holding your tears, when your purple walls have created a shadow that is your only comfort. When you have no fingernails left what happens next? When your freshly painted white door opens with the sunlight shining through, what happens next? How quickly do we smile how fast do your tears disappear and your happy hello plays automatically. What happens after you have nothing left to hold on to? What happens when the music is not loud enough? When the lyrics do not make sense any more? What happens next? Why are we more comfortable alone hiding from the world, why do we think it is okay to fight a war by ourselves? Are we stronger or weaker as the days past? When your mind would not let you sleep, what happens next? What happens when life is not so clear anymore. When nothing is going right what happens next? When you can not tell the difference between reality and fantasy. When your purple walls heard you when no one else did, when they gave your pictures, memories, and words a home. What happens next?

Our freshly painted white doors can not hold our untold stories forever. One day our river will be too strong and the purple walls are no longer creating a comforting shadow our freshly painted white doors will be opened. The world is becoming louder than your music, people’s voices are becoming clearer, and the gutter of the day is no longer easy to clean up. You have no more fingernails and tears, your voice is shaking and your painted smile is being washed away. The sunlight has become brighter your happy hello has now changed into a cry for help.

You have reached rock bottom staring up at the stars chasing the moon. Waiting for anyone to come and save you, waiting for anyone to notice you have reached a point of no return. You have not seen the sunlight in weeks, your freshly painted white door had created a monster. Keeping every last word you have told yourself is in your purple walls. You have now covered your mirror with photos because you do not like who was looking back at you. You had to hide yourself from yourself, you are so sick of hearing your mind telling you what everyone is thinking. Once you have closed your freshly painted white door how fast do you drop your painted smile, how fast do you let your mind play tricks on you. How fast do you let the river grow?

Once you have walked outside your freshly painted door you leave everything you are behind, trapped, denied to the world. Your painted smile is hiding your sorrow, your headphones are hiding the voices. Your happy hellos are hiding your cry for help, wishing you were back behind your freshly painted white door. You are trying to keep your breathing balance, hands from shaking, and your eyes from tearing. You are mouthing to yourself that it is okay, relax, breath. Life will get better, because it has to right, you cannot possibly live like this forever. Please do me a favor keep the freshly painted white door closed.