My insides are as frail and sensitive to bend as aluminum foil, and often it just crumbles inward and sits, hard and twisted in the pit of my stomach. That heavy feeling, that time bomb just waiting to agitate the rest of my senses. Then there’s the vacuum, sucking out my emotions, tearing away the good things.

I’ll wake up scared and unaware of where I am, and I just feel so alone in the farthest corner of my bed.