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.