It's a terrifying feeling when a part of your world dies. It's like you feel it twinge. And then there's a slow, throbbing pain as something rips away. And you want to scream, want to cry out. But you're too busy listening to the silence where a bit of your world used to be.
It starts innocently. Just a phone call. Someone wanting to learn more perhaps. Perhaps they say they love you and want to see where you live. Perhaps they say you're their best friend or significant others or that you're special in some way to them. So it's easy to let them in. You do it on good faith because you love them. You love them and you want to see them happy.
At first things are fine. They do some small things for you perhaps. Perhaps they build you a couch at front. Perhaps they plant flowers for you in windowboxes. Perhaps they build terraces of climbing vines with heart-shaped leaves. And maybe they even give stuffed animals to your kids. You're walking on cloud 9. They understand!! They really do! They love you and they understand you and all will be happy and glorious and fine forever.
But the bliss and comfort are shortlived. They start doing things to your world. It starts very slowly. Perhaps they say that the leaves on a certain tree are really emerald and you know that they're actually the color of grass. But you want to make them happy so you go along with it. After all it's something small. Just the color of the leaves of one tree. You can let that slide. But you feel a tiny little ache. You know you're not being entirely true to yourselves. But they're happy and you're happy. Everything can still work.
Time goes by. Things are getting darker. They're putting restaurants in the middle of places that shouldn't have restaurants, like McDonalds in the Outback. They're saying that you've got baby-stealing cults or evil men who abuse animals. They're saying that your world is a miniature of theirs complete with all the nastiness. But deep in your heart you know it isn't true. But you still love them and you don't want to hurt them. You want them happy. But you feel little parts of your world tearing away bit by bit, disappearing before your eyes.
And one day they say something really ludicrous. Perhaps they say that there's been a massive flood or a fire. Or perhaps your government has suddenly decided to make them the head of homeland Security when that department never existed before. Or perhaps the world is being invaded once again. And this time you feel that ache and it's bigger, harder than usual. And you turn to your home...But all that greets your ears is silence. And all that greets your eyes is blackness. People come from that blackness to front. But as for the world? It is not there anymore. Nothing left but layer on top of layer of other people's assumptions, a stained glass window covered in graffiti and gang signs. And there you stand on the edge of the blackness, wondering what went wrong. And they're behind you, pulling at your shirt sleeve, asking why you don't like what they've done. Perhaps they even say it was all for you. But you know the truth. It hits you in the gut and doubles you over. This isn't your world. It's a perversion of beauty. And you want to dispute what they say but you can't. Your voice, your truth has gone with the world.