Hunt through an old journal, and you will find some interesting stories barely started and way too much introspection

Once upon a time, there was a girl locked in a tower. Everywhere she went, whether it was to work, to school, or even to a local bar; she carried the tower with her.

She had been imprisoned in the tower by something that could be as dark as she could be light. She had been put there by someone who could be as bold as she could be meek, as boisterous as she was quiet. She had put herself in the tower several years ago. She had selected the tower for it's heavy stone walls, which were perfect protection. They easily kept her separated from those moving around her. She thought the climbing ivy added a nice aesthetic to her carefully selected segregation.

The tower protected her, just as she had hoped it would. She always had layers of concrete encasing her at all times. Even her dreams were kept secret and safe from the prying eyes of strangers. But the walls also kept her in, as such protective means tend to do.

She never had to feel the discomfort of cold, leering stares from men that so many women living in a city have to endure daily. Whistles and cat calls were simply not a part of the symphony of her life. But she also never felt the warmth of a smile or wink from a friend, people generally do not spare a smile for a young woman who chooses concrete to human company.

She had, of course, heard the occasional request to "Let down your hair" or at least a rope of some sort. But she knew better than to take time to seriously contemplate these words. She knew it was possible that some of these men were genuine and true in their intention, but how was she to separate the real from the fake? She had become accustomed to her little tower built for one and could not imagine the intrusion of another person in her space. All that human feeling and personality, pumping blood and noise. She had forgotten what it was like to feel the closeness of skin that belonged to someone else. The only way to discover the truth about a person would be to expose herself to them, and that was just too risky. She knew that many men felt compelled to obtain the elusive and unattainable, she couldn't imagine that her sparse, confined home would keep anyone entertained for long.

She reminded herself that it was in everyone's best interest for everyone to just stay put. She in her tower, and them on the outside of it. The tower was not perfect, it came with it's own list of problems. She always had to find two seats together at a bar and crowded subway cars were out of the question. But when she became agitated, she looked to her happy unbroken heart and smiled. She had never loved, but more importantly; she had never lost. She could not think of a single musical artist who sang love songs and did not have at least one sad song in their repertoire. Who needed happy memories when they would almost certainly be followed by sad ones?

Her tower was just like her. It was smart, careful, and strong. Her tower was just like her, it was cold, impossible to break into, and alone.

The ending needs work. Really the whole thing does, I just like the visual...