I won’t show my face fully because I feel like every part of me is breaking up into tiny pieces of nothing. I am numb. I want to talk, but I want to stay silent. But the creative urge pushes me to make an image of how I’m feeling, inside as well as out. They say time heals. I hope it can glue my soul back together, or a stich in time will darn my minds pieces into a whole again. I am torn into atoms and scattered.