The walls come crashing down. Don’t look at her. Even if they aren’t there, don’t touch her. I won’t let anyone touch her. Don’t come closer; stay where you are! I’ll distance her, like everyday.

No one can see her. Even if she stands behind a wall, even if she stands behind a mask, surely, someone somewhere, could see her… yet they will not. Why cry tears? They won’t help her. She’s been secretly falling apart and praying to disappear. No one knows her here. No one knows she’s here.
They listen to her voice—but do they hear the words she says? Do they hear the silence that echoes from within her? Could they even comprehend why she won’t let them see what’s bottled inside? A twitch of the hand or recoil is not an appalled response when done by her. It’s a way of saying “Don’t get any closer than that.”

Watch her as she laughs and smiles with that plastic mask of hers. Can they see the pain beneath her façade? Smile and play nice. Just pretend to be there. Pretend to be with them.

Don’t cry for her as if to understand. Don’t reach out to her. Don’t reach out for her. Just let her fall. Let her fall and lose those feelings on the way. Just let her fall.
If they touch her, she will shatter. If they hear her, she will cry. If they see her, she will burst. So I won’t let them touch her. I won’t let them hear. I won’t let anyone see her. For she is mine, mine alone.