You're my wall. You give me strength, and stability, and something to lean on when I need it. Except sometimes you have these pointy edges. Sortoff like the uneven-glass-bits-and-pieces that wall-tops used to have back home in Karachi. The pointy bits push back at me. They warn me not to get too complacent. I hate them, when they emerge (every once in a while), but I must resentfully admit that they do force me to stand up straight.
And even though I hurt a little bit from the tiny-jagged-pokes and all, the truth is, I love you all the more for it.