"A toast to me, myself and I, a glass of sweet solitude."
Just a line from a poem I wrote a while ago. It's been ringing in my head for days so I thought I would shine some light on it, and maybe then it would stop pestering me.
I was the boss. Emotions kept in check. Tears shed only in solitude. Tough as old boots. No-one could break this ice queen. Then she looked at me. This tiny scrap of humanity. And I crumbled.