I want to feel. I want to feel a blade running down my wrist. I want to feel. I want to feel the cold, hard, metal of a gun in my mouth. I want to feel. I want to feel a rope scratching and pulling my neck. I want to feel. I want to run my hand through fire and feel. If I feel maybe I will unbreak. Maybe my heart will be molded to a lump resembling what it once was. Now, I am a broken puzzle with no one to put me together. I want someone to hold me and hide me from myself. For I am scary, I am the monster in my closet. I want to disappear.