Walls. They were always blue. Always calm. Always comforting. I find my solace here. Away from the world, away from the chatter, safe.Safe from the scouring eyes of judgment. Everyone seems to own a pair. I am the exception. Walls that are thin. I hear conversations behind them. They are the voices of my mom and dad. I hear the bass shaking my walls. They are the basslines of my sister. She is gold to me. Walls that are blue because I love blue paint. The color blue takes me higher. It makes me feel like I am soaring. It brings me back to my elementary school years. I was a kid. Every room I lived in, blue; a vast ocean that didn't drown be, but instead hugged me. Blue walls remind me of music. Soothing music reverberating off of my blue walls. Rock'n'roll that calmed me. Soul pop that nurtured me. Worship that brought me to my knees in times of despair. I saw no way out. But the walls kept me close, as a mother presses her baby to her bosom. Walls remind me of perfume. My room, always saturated in fragrant vanillas and oftentimes sweet pea. Now, I am grown and I do not wear any of those sprays. Instead, the walls I live in smell of warm, white sands. I burn the waxes in my wax warmer to ease me some more. Walls. They remind me of the taste of my tears. Oh, how I've cried plenty. But every tear has healed me. It is like adding water to sand to make it stick. The tears were always the glue. They gave me structure, and substance. The salt in them has built me behind these walls that are my friends. Walls that carry me. Walls that could never contain the bigness of God, yet he still came to live behind them with me.