Sometimes everything feels pointless. Not one thing in particular, just all of it. Sometimes you just have to get away from it all, but there’s never any place to go, to leave life’s troubles behind. Sometimes you just have to break yourself off from everyone else, everything else, create a wall. It’s the only way. Every problem, every scar, every brick, made this. It’s perfect, the protection from the dreadful, cruel world. It’s so easy to just say goodbye now, isn’t it. Were you wrong? Should you have stayed? There may have been others, out there on their own, out there beyond the wall. Is it too late now? You’re stuck there, stuck with yourself. Stuck with the deafening silence of your thoughts behind the wall. Stuck with the crowded isolation of the memories on which the wall was built. Stuck with the confusingly simple notion that you must tear it down. It’s better now on the outside. But you'll feel the feeling again, sometimes.