I built myself in layers

I built myself in layers, slowly, like a wall learning its own weight. I polished the outside, not to mislead, only to endure being noticed. When someone comes close, I’m already a step back. I can almost feel their gaze catching on the uneven places, on what’s still setting, on what I haven’t learned to call mine. Before they choose, I choose for them. I make distance, because it hurts less when I can name it as my doing. Later, alone, that distance turns around. It hones itself. It becomes my voice explaining why leaving was right. Maybe that’s why I love animals. They don’t measure. They don’t linger at the seams. They simply stay. With them, I’m not a work in progress. I’m not a verdict. I’m here, and it’s enough.