The Castle I Built from Worry
I started young, laying brick on brick—
each anxiety a stone I mortared into place.
By twelve, the walls were thick enough
to keep out compliments, to muffle praise.
The moat I dug with my own hands,
filled it with every worst-case scene:
the car crash, the missed deadline, the test
I’d fail despite knowing every answer clean.
I raised the drawbridge for anyone
who got too close, who saw the turrets
for what they were—not protection
but a prison I’d designed with such care
the architect and prisoner were the same.
Now I stand on the highest tower,
looking down at the life outside these walls,
the one I could have lived
if I hadn’t been so good at building,
if I hadn’t made this fortress so complete
that even I can’t find the door,
can’t remember which stone was the first I laid.????????????????
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