There are three kinds of people.
People who build a brick fort,
People who build a wooden cabin,
And people who build a glass building.

People who build a brick fort.

Strong and stern from the outside.
You think it will be cold and there will be nothing inside.
You need a special key to unlock the door,
Or they have to let you in.

But once you step in, it feels like home.
There is warmth.
There is love.
You feel safe and secured from the dangers outside the fort.

People who build a wooden cabin.

Solid, yet looks comfortable and homey.
There are small windows to peek inside.
There are front doors and back doors.
Sometimes, they share their keys with you if they want to let you in.

Once you step in, it feels familiar.
Everything is as you would expect from a wooden cabin.
There are little surprises here and there, like an early Christmas morning,
But no plot twists, no threats.

People who build a glass building.

Beautiful, open, and observable from the outside.
With exquisite and enticing display.
They lure you in with their openness.
Their sliding doors constantly opens and closes, easily giving you access in.

Once you step in, there are more doors, more displays, more mirrors.
You could only see reflections of yourself along with their display.
Like a store, as seasons change, the display changes.
You think you know them, but you don’t.

So…which one are you?



Remembering all the familiar names,
Recognising all the familiar faces.

What I call “Friends”.
Some are “Ex-lovers”.
Some are “Best friends”.
Some are even “Family”.

Some I have known from school.
Some since I was younger.
Some I have met recently.
Some I have never even met.

Any of them could be a murderer.
Any of them could be psychologically disturbed.

Everyone has psychopathic tendencies.
It just takes a trigger.
One, sweet, little trigger.
That put those thoughts into action.

To put it simply, how much can you really know about someone?

How many steps ahead can you be?
How familiar are you with those close to you?

You may know their habits and their life stories,
but how much do you know what is going on in their heads when they talk to you?

What if sometimes they imagine how crunchy your neck will snap in their hands?
What if sometimes they imagine how smooth the knife will glide against your skin?
What if sometimes they imagine how bloody it will be when they smash your head against the wall?

What if one day, something pulled the trigger and they unleash their psychopathic thoughts on you?

How much can you really trust someone?
How much can we believe in other people?


Obviously I’ve been watching Gone, Girl and also How to Get Away with Murder too much.