“Hey Libby, come hang out?” he says.
It seemed as though we broke the boundaries of intimacy a little too quickly. I wanted you, I knew it instantly. Your madness melding with mine under the clutter of shop signs and advertising that stretched into the heavens.
At this point in my life, I can more or less predict my movements and I’m wondering when the fear will set in this time. My tongue will dissolve. My Psyche will flee to a place you can’t follow. Cupid will be decapitated.
I could explain all the excuses of my mum this and my dad that but at the bottom of it all, lies the truth. There is a tall and staggering tower I’ve built. Stone by stone, it has been my longest running project. I have been secretly working on it my whole life. And I, Princess of the Tower, cannot stop.
It’s now that I realise it’s not even a tower anymore. The walls have become so high, it is more like a deep well or a Mycenaean tholos.
There is no one here but me and my desperate, scrabbling fingers that bleed profusely as I try to tear it all down. This loneliness is my self-made domain and you will never know it.