Cold on purpose, burning underneath.
Something was taken from you before you had the language to grieve it, so you built a version of yourself that can't be hurt that way again — controlled, sharp, allergic to needing anyone. You mistake distance for strength and revisit the same old wound dressed up as ambition, chasing power so the loss never happens on your watch twice. The people who stayed anyway are the ones you push away the hardest. The Eye sees it plainly: the wall was never about them. It was about never being that unprotected again.
Get your read — free on iPhoneThe wall that kept the old pain out is now keeping the good stuff out too.
What the wall is actually still protecting you from.
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