There are a lot of things I can never put into words, phrases, sentences, analogies, a concluding statement things like the feeling of falling apart when you just can't close your eyes at night or the impetuous carvings of your name into my heart when there was no more room for you in my head. I search on the internet a synonym for angry I get cross, vexed, indignant, irked, galled; when there are things I cannot put into words like when I feel this ditch, cavity, trench big enough to fit in all my sorrow at the bottom, extremity, underpinning, base of my stomach which flips with every bus ride home. Home. Property. Abode. Domicile. A place I never really had or knew how to get to because I always got distant— Location. I close, shut, get rid off the tab on my computer and I close, shut, the laptop screen. There are no words to describe this feeling. The feeling of messy closets and not sleeping for three nights and finding meaning out of a life that had no value to me. So I wonder if things will ever change. If my hair will get shinier, if my worries fade away and I still ask myself if I will ever stop asking myself to do things I can't do. Do. Execute. Achieve, I have achieved nothing but let parts of myself descend deeper and deeper into a Tiffany and Co.'s box filled with dust that never catch the light and a Marc Jacob's bag of dimes that just weigh it down. A glass hammer, an inflatable dartboard. A helicopter eject seat, always throwing myself into situations— I can't fix with the same bare hands I've used to beat myself up. And still I try to make sense of the nothingness I am typing. Yet, I still take the train to school. I take showers. I listen to music on long walks. I try. Everyday, I try.