Why are you sad? Art is camouflage. I must wear my feelings on my skin. No one will know how I feel. Do I feel? How do you feel about me? Why does no one ever answer that question? The answer must be they do not. Do they feel? Help. I never understand. Someone told me I understand human emotion very well. I never understand. Why is almost a word? I want to rip it out of existence. I am not gentle. Do I hurt people or do people hurt me? I wish I was gentle. I want to touch something without breaking it. I think I have broken myself while writing this. Are people looking at me? Do they see the pieces of me falling to the ground? This poor, broken girl. No. I am invisible. I like it this way. It is okay if you don't love me. I would prefer you not see me. Do you think about me? Yes. I can feel it in my chest when you do. Or maybe I feel it in my chest when I think of you. We can't forget people on purpose. That pleasure is saved for accidents. Sometimes I see people that look familiar.