I am weird, I am not normal, and it is more than likely that I will die alone at my hand or the negligence of others; you will not understand me, and you will never get near me because there is a wall around me, a monstrous and ever-growing wall.
My wall started as a few towers with gunmen overanalyzing people, not understanding how they feel or how I think, not understanding how to communicate.
Then, the wall grew from the ashes. The trauma laid the foundation, and the wall grew every year. Relationships failed, and brick by brick, my small town with aspirations of becoming a sprawling city grew old and worn because no longer could people come in to maintain it.
Now and then, someone scales the wall, gets into my town, and begins to maintain it, but time moves differently in my town; they spend their lives there and starve there because there is no food to keep them alive in my village, only scraps of once better times, memories, and maybe medications too.
Because my wall is innovative and ever so cruel, it covers where they came from so that nobody else can enter the village entrance they came through.
My wall is ingenious and large, and it never stops growing, so if I seem weird, that is because I am, because nobody ever gave me a chance to develop; the only growth in my town was the wall that kept everyone else out so that no more fires could cover its streets.
Every year, I take a month-long vacation from my town. I enter a new city to talk to others and help them get through my wall. Although I have begun to make progress in tearing this wall down, the reality is that my town will never have enough time to be a city; at most, maybe I can bring some more people in to maintain it, but deciding whom to let into my town is hard because I know if someone breaks my trust and burns my streets that wall may become too large. No one else will ever see my town.
