You, who walk into my house and comment that it is too big for one person – look past the size and into the heart of a young homeless girl who had to hide in a pipe to shield herself from the rain

You who notice my lights burning at light and scold me for wasting electricity – what do you know of the demons and dust-bugs in the dark that my mother taunted me with as a child

You, who frown at the chaos and clutter in every room, telling me to start throwing away – see every item as a shield against anonymity and the fear of leaving no mark on this world

You who scorn my shelves and shelves of books, all read, mouthing words such as recycle and space – knowledge is the one thing no person has ever been able to take away from me

You who look at my figure with a frown, then tell me I should take care of myself, shed weight and exercise. I’m not prepared to peel off the layers shielding my fragile self from the world

You who question my lack of friends and a social life… look closer, and also notice my lack of a family. Then notice the wall around my heart built with bricks labelled rejection, fear, betrayal and lies

You who see my instinctive avoidance of hugs and bodily contact and perceive this as rejection – I have no experience of hugs and am unable to relax when you’re in my space

You look at the trail of broken relationships in my wake and wonder what happened. I look at a trail of failed attempts to cocoon myself in a nest and now embrace solitude

You who perceive me as curt, haughty and disdainful, with low patience and tolerance – understand that I’ve given up on even attempting to understand people’s thoughts and actions

You who listen to stories and rumours, labelling me and my actions as unacceptable and ask why I choose not to defend… I choose to use my energy elsewhere and not waste it

You who judge my preference of the company of those who are less fortunate…. See the smiles and gratitude when I enter their lives, and the lack of grading me according to what I own

You who see me as unfriendly and antisocial… You are right. I will rather be alone than hurt again.