I know: I’m sorry it’s dusty in there. By the way, have you seen my blue jellies? They’ve been missing for, like, four months and I’m sure I threw them in there along with my clean laundry and empty suitcases. You haven’t? That’s a shame.
Anyway, I interrupted you to inform you that I am not intimidated by you. While I am almost always conscious of your existence, I am not afraid of you. I have come to realize that you lurk in the back of everyone’s minds, tucked away behind people’s memories of riding on rocking horses and throwing up at the carnival—things of that sort. It is not just me who has to deal with the fear of people finding out about you, or the fear that people will judge me if they do. Everyone else is worrying too. And because of that, you can’t scare me.
I’m not going to go out of my way to make sure everyone knows about you. I’m sure people automatically assume that you’re hanging out with my old sweaters and outgrown jeans right when they meet me because it’s what you do. They don’t know the details, though. And, just because I’m not afraid doesn’t mean I’ll be up on a soapbox telling the world who you are or how you got in my closet.
No, I’m not going to publicize. Instead, I’m going to open up my closet for people who want to see. Light will shine in brightly and whoever is there will be able to see you clearly. And I know that you will be so blinded by the beam, you won’t be able to do a thing but cower in the closet where you belong.