This sadness, this insanity… is overwhelmingly lonely.

I can't explain why I freeze when people start yelling at me, why I clam up and retreat into my safe-box, why there is an outrageous wave of anger that rides me until I snarl and lash out mindlessly with the emotion.

And then, after burning out, all I can do is expel the ashes of my quickly thinning temper and live with the echoing regret resonating throughout my body. Dispirited, all I can do is stare out at the world with my deaden eyes.

Why don't I look at you when you're screaming at me? Why don't I answer you when you're accusing me? Why do I turn up my music so that I can't hear you?

I wonder.

My body is filled with this numbness but the world doesn't stop with my heart. It continues on its merry way, leaving me behind, shuddering, seizing up, trying—trying so hard to expel the nothingness within me. But I can't.

My imperfections are not so simple. Each flaw draws blood, embedding itself into the softest part of my core, tearing the nerve endings apart, destroying the fragile, barely beating flesh of meat that I cannot even call my heart anymore.

I stop. Close my eyes and breathe deeply. The music blaring itself into my ears stops the world from revolving without me. If I can't hear change, change is not occurring. Everything will stay the same.

Everything.