emptiness. who will pick up my wreckage? i should but how? who but me can classify it and describe it? can i even? everything's a mess because nothing i do is good enough. i'm not the first victim of this sad crime but that doesn't take away the weight it puts on my body and mind. i'm not at all at peace. my mind jumbles with thoughts but at the same time i trip over my words. i mumble and get nervous. some people are good at being humans, others aren't. no, it's not "not that hard" because it's hard as fuck.