My Fortress

So I've got these walls, but their not just walls--more like a fortress with a moat and large vats of hot oil just waiting to be poured (ironically, they often seem to tip inwards, but that's another post...).

Occasionally Alpha ends up back out in the moat which is a bit like waving red in front of a raging bull.
That is generally when those pesky vats of burning liquid spill inwards.

But I had a little moment of realization today--maybe I don't actually need this castle anymore.

Walls exist to provide safety by keeping things out. I have no desire to keep Alpha out.
To a large extent, he protects me from the world. And he protects me from myself. Even when he has to swim across the moat and tear down my walls to put out the fires.

But that lonely little castle, it's not where I go for shelter, it's not where I lay my head or cry my tears. Inside is not where I share my dreams or conquer my fears. In fact, my real fortress looks a lot like this:

And it's lovely--because no one else can enter here. It's just him and me. But the outside world sees this:

He is my fortress, my shelter in the storms, the walls between myself and the big bad world outside. Here we spar, love, cry, and laugh. Safely tucked away from the eyes and reach of humanity.

So what happens if I simply accept the fact that he is my fortress and let my lonely walls crumble?