The door of my home was always
open. I never needed a key to enter,
nor did I fear that someone would
dare to steal. It was a kind of
ingrained custom in our
community, a small refuge
of security in a world
where paranoia and
fear were common currency.
It was coming home and finding the
door open, welcoming and
hospitable, ready to receive me.
However, one day, that tranquility
shattered into a thousand pieces.
The open door, something so
natural, became the scene of
the inexplicable. That day,
I decided to let someone
I knew enter. I knew the
door was always open,
and I trusted that
everything would
remain the same.
But that person
entered stealthily
and stole something
of immense value.
Why did they need it
when they lacked nothing?
They chose that innocent door,
but their action shattered my
innocent heart.
That which was once pure and
immaculate was taken from
me. The innocent heart
exists only once in a
lifetime.
As a result of that
incident, all the
doors in my life
closed.
Even the key was lost because
no one else could inhabit that space.
The house that was once a home became
a desolate place. People would occupy other
spaces, like the garage or the yard, but the heart,
the core of the house, could never be inhabited again.
The keys, which used to go unnoticed, now warned of
dangers. The locks that were once decorative were now guardians of my vulnerability. Why didn't I know? Why
doesn't anyone know? Knowledge is a shield against the evils of the world, and innocence, in a world full of criminals, can be destructive. The door is no longer open, and my innocent heart no longer exists.bndfnbdbd
