We’re all made of Jenga.

We start as a tower, tall and steady. Our weaknesses stacked between our strengths, hiding, protected. Gravity keeps us together. And the world stares. Trying to predict our soft spots, pushing our buttons. We cave. We fall by pieces, yet we stand. The pressure will come, we just don’t know its direction. But we’re not built equal. The air through our gaps disturbs some more than others. If you insist in keep playing it, your game will be over soon.