I see the beauty in the broken, but I can't seem to find the beauty in myself. I'm falling, crumbling, collapsing. It's painful. I'll never turn it off. I think I'm more afraid of being numb...of letting myself feel a hollow nothing, than to give in to my madness and let everything swallow me whole. We live. We die. We struggle in between. Seems fairly pointless. My own sense of happiness is always too short lived.