Have you ever built a wall?

The construction itself is relatively simple. You need bricks, mortar and a trowel.

A wall is only as strong as what it’s made of.

Every brick must be chosen with care. Solid, sturdy, meant to withstand time and pressure. Each one laid with precision, bonded by mortar that fuses them together, creating something impenetrable. A well-built wall protects, endures, stands firm against the storm. It doesn’t bend. It doesn’t break. It serves its purpose without question.

But you, Gemini… you built yours with cracks from the start.

You didn’t choose bricks of strength, you chose weakness. Brittle friendships. Lovers who whispered sweet lies into your ear, convincing you they were stone when they were nothing but sand. Bad choices, stacked one on top of the other, hastily placed, uneven, unstable. You built fast because you thought you had to. Because you thought if you didn’t, you’d have nothing at all.

You didn’t choose bricks of strength, you picked the weak, the broken, the ones already crumbling in your hands. Bad friendships. Bad lovers. Bad choices. One after another, stacked unevenly, hastily, as if you were in a race to build something.. anything.. without stopping to check what you were using.

And the mortar? That’s what holds a wall together, gives it resilience. But yours was never meant to last. Manipulation mixed into your cement. Deceit stirred into your foundation. You let others decide what held you together, let them tell you which materials were right. And you so eager to believe, so desperate to build—bought into every single lie.

You didn’t build a wall to stand the test of time, Gemini. You failed to construct something fit for purpose.

You crafted a fragile, crumbling, hollow thing, ready to collapse the moment real pressure is applied. And the cracks? They’ve been there for a long time. Maybe you don’t see them. Maybe you don’t want to. But they’re there, running deep through every inch of what you’ve built. And all it takes is one hard push.

And when that wall comes down, when you come down, I won’t need to break you.

You’ve already done that yourself.

I won’t have to swing a hammer or tear down the pieces brick by brick. No. When the time comes, all I’ll do is step forward… press my palm against the weakest spot… and push.

And when the dust settles, when you’re standing in the ruins of what you thought would keep you safe… you’ll realize it was never a wall at all.

Just a pile of poor decisions waiting to collapse.

And me?

I’ll step over the rubble.

And bury what’s left.