today I spoke once again of my problems though another soul.

someone I loved told me they knew people who suffered from their thoughts, from the reality projected to them in their minds.

I held my hand subconsciously over my scars and smiled sadly.

"That's terrible" I said "It's so hard when you feel empty, and the chemicals that make up 'happy' aren't there"

"I couldn't imagine it" they said.

I held back my tears.

'I feel it through each day', I wanted to say.

But I didn't.

I changed the subject.

And hurt myself again.