you'll always get them before they get you and not look back until you're far from the scene of the crime. preemptive - that's smart.

it's a pretty word with a dirty meaning.. isolated, afraid, misanthropic. not always, just a lot.

you've learned to wrap yourself up in fearlessness and cover your head with the blanket, keeping out the pain that follows love. you can stare anyone in the eye when they're exploding your heart and give them nothing. because you're too strong. the outside layer has calcified and become burdensome to disavow yourself of. it's part of who you are, now.

you pretend that somewhere inside there's still a weak and romantic soul, but no such energy exists. the shell is the whole and the shell, like any shell, inside is empty. the memories of real happiness echo around each other as they bounce slowly between the walls.

imagine yourself with a sword in your hand, muscles overdeveloped from keeping so tight a grip. you guard the gate and make no exceptions.

maybe a visa is granted, but travellers in your mind are watched closely and, should they trip, immediately disposed of.

you can recall at some point being softer. and that the attack, the one that tore your world apart, came from nowhere, mercenaries who treaded like ghosts. you didn't want to fight, then, or to spend your days watching, watching for any potential danger. but you learned and someone convinced you to be proud of this, what you've become, this icy sphinx. and now you can't go back.