I try to look past it. I try to avoid and ignore it. To me, it doesn't exist. Then the curtain is pulled aside, and the truth is exposed. It seeps in. It rushes through my body like adrenaline. It drops in my stomach like a weight. It sets my hands apart from my body. Everything moves slower; mellifluous. I draw into myself. I feel myself stepping back. I am building my walls closer, sealing them tighter. I am coming undone. The seams are bursting and fraying at the ends. And now, I am in my haven. You are under my skin. You are in my head. But in my haven, I am in solitude; safe and protected by walls built close enough to touch.