It's called self-preservation.

I want to be a snail.

On the way home, I saw two snails in my path. As I reached out to pick one up, but it drew back into it's shell and lay deep within as a way of defence. And so, I began to wonder what it'd be like to be a snail. To have a shell that you could withdraw into each day, anytime, anywhere; it'd always be there.

It hides for it fears it's soft body would be prodded at causing it a very sad death. It has its shell though, to offer it as much protection as it can get. I wonder how safe it feels each time it withdraws back into that hollow home on its back, how thankful it is that it can stay away from all the sadness and negativity in the world.

I decided I'll make myself my own shell.