Now, I know that this was not the worst part. This just was the beginning, the outskirts of what turned out to be a hurricane. There was no way I could’ve ever been ready for the force, the hugeness of what I was in for. By the time the eye of the storm reached me, I was already gone, scattered into tiny pieces of sand and dust that floated over the people and places that were my life. I worked my way behind bookshelves, under beds, into that lint in the pockets of your jeans. I became that dust that you see glittering in the sunlight on clear days, that dirt particle that mixes with the perfect amount of pollen and makes you sneeze. My life wasn’t something tangible anymore. It was something that I had to start rebuilding once the storm blew through. But this time, this time, I was going to make myself hurricane-proof. I collected bricks, beautiful red bricks, and started to build a wall around myself. There was no way I was going to dissipate this time. There was no way I was going to let a silly thing like love dissolve my life again.