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and i'm too tired, too tired too sick. an empty girl, a shell of a person who could dance and sing and love. crowded rooms too much, scream building. don't touch me. bedroom closing in, the clutter infiltrating my system, my overloaded brain and my sensitive eyes. it hurts. i'm separate, an arm, or a leg, detached from myself. revert to old habits. it's always the same. i patch myself up and the patches fall away. i need a day, a night, or more. no sour shame and stumbling home. words not pouring, forcibly placed. heavy, too heavy to bear. what would you say? tempting to cripple, to fall, to see how much people care. experiments, tests, you were good at those. i can't care anymore. a pencil freezes, paints fail to blend at my fingertips. i cannot cry. i knew if i stopped moving, if i stayed still for a single day, i would crash. mental health is a luxury. i am not worthy.