Walls aren’t enough for me. They’re too easy to scratch up, too easy to break down.

I need a roof for these walls. The roof will surely seal me away, where nothing can touch me (or my heart).

Roofs aren’t enough anymore. They’re too easily caved in, too easily smashed to pieces.

I need barricades. The barricades will surely seal away my thoughts, will surely keep them within, where only I know them.

Barricades are no longer adequate. They’re so simple to burst through, too easy to splinter apart.

I need a moat- that will surely send the message that it’s not worth the venture across.

But the moat isn’t enough. Bridges can be built over it, and it seems to challenge people rather than deter them.

I must need levels to this mansion of misery. That will surely show them it’s not worth the climb.

Levels don’t work either. They seem to provoke people to climb them, only egging them on.

I need a keep. One that will seal me away from all the other parts of my castle. One that no one can reach.

But this keep can’t keep people at bay. All it does is crumble.

I must need a tower. A place of heights and isolation that no one else can reach.

But this tower, it’s not working. All it does is make me want to yell from its heights so I can be heard. All it does is make me want to climb back down, through the keep and down the levels, take down the barricades and lower the drawbridge, and knock down the roof and walls until it all crumbles on me, burying me in my own mansion of misery.

I must need change. Change will help me rebuild my home, stone by stone, with open doors. So that the only walls and roof I need are to keep everyone dry and warm. So that the only barricades and moat I need are to protect the ones I love. So that the only levels and keep I need are the ones we climb together. And so that when we make the climb and reach the tower, we can enjoy the view together.