The Fortress of Salt

Dear Delyara, I built a wall around my heart made of salt and tears, thinking it would keep the pain out. But salt just makes everything sting. I’ve been living in a fortress of my own defense, terrified of being touched, terrified of being known. Tonight, I let the ink wash the salt away. I wrote about the hands that hurt me and the voices that made me feel small. I didn't hold back the ugly parts. I let the rage and the sorrow flow onto the parchment until the well ran dry. The wall is crumbling, but for the first time, I’m not afraid. I don't need a fortress when I have a sanctuary.