the history of walls and other thing I won't talk about

I think it's interesting what people will tell and what they keep for themselves. I have friends that talk about their sex life like they talk about what they ate for dinner, ain't no big deal until it's great and then they tell the world. I have friends that will tell you about their courtships but won't tell you when they are in love. Friends that relate absolutely everything that happens to other people, back to themselves to serve as some sort of 'comfort to you'. People that will talk shit about everyone they know, but never say when they like anything.

I will talk about food. I will tell you everything that I eat in one day, especially when I have engorged myself to an unbelievable level.

Today:

Oatmeal and flax seed (intending to be good)
Brown Rice, tofu, broccoli with green curry (still doin' ok)
Nachos with cheese, pinto beans, jalapenos, sour cream, guacamole, and more cheese (a glimmer of a sad girl that needs comforting)
a few jalapeno poppers (gross, didn't want them, must fill void)
a package of Kit Kat and a coffee (not hungry, need chocolate, want to do anything but think)
That's all so far, it's only 2:30pm.

Anyway---

I will talk about most things that people talk about- art, books, music, movies, current events, etc. Sometimes I'll go deeper. I really enjoy listening more than talking, so I often listen to other people's problems and help work things out.

However, when things get personal for me, I shut down. Part of me used to think that I liked to keep all the conflict and sadness to myself because a)I didn't want to sound pathetic and b) if I talked about it, I might figure it out, and then what the fuck would I write about?

These points, along with several others, fit nicely under the blanket excuse for all my deficiencies; I call it My Wall. Whatever the relationship, friendship, or new beginning, I come armored with an open-mind, a heart willing to love, and a 50 lb. bag of cement ready to go at any minute.
You will say you love me, and I'll love you too, but the second it's said I'll start mixing and laying down the first layers. No one can get too close, I'll only let myself love you to a point.

I've never seen anything wrong with this method of protection before, you get to love and be loved while also maintaining your distinct qualities and interests. I win!
Ok, so what I'm finding is that I don't win. My wall, meant to protect and keep intruders out, keeps out the goodness too. My wall, meant to protect and keep out imminent hurt, ends up hurting me.
I have often looked into the future and envisioned myself alone, furiously productive in some urban setting, going out with friends to openings and shows, and coming home to my small one bedroom. Everything is mine, I don't need anyone's permission, and the world is open to me. That sounds pretty fucking awesome until it occurred to me the other day that when envisioning this, I always had this incredible feeling of sadness that would come over me. I've always ignored that because I felt like the only way you can be productive, effective, truly yourself, and artistic is if you shut people out and experience that internal sadness.

I don't think I believe in this anymore. All this wall building gets tiring and lonely. But what I haven't mastered yet, and the question that still plagues me is, how do you keep from falling apart if you don't have a wall to hold you up.