There is an emptiness, a void, a space. A place in side of my chest, between my heart and rib cage. I have a painful blackness where maybe a piece of my soul should be, maybe it’s missing. I have to strangle myself, or press the bible to my body to make the throbbing stop. I have to re-learn what it means to feel, how to be, and how to be loved. Because when I close my eyes I only remember that I was biting my lip and sitting on my knees behind a garbage can with some man standing up in front of me. When I look around, the arms covered in ink and the hands that smell like nicotine just seem so appetizing. Oh, but that was the only way to feel something, and I could still be something if I hadn’t lied about going to the library and smoked half a pack of cigarettes because I was so nervous. I would have smoked more if it weren’t raining. I even walked through the allies because what’s the worst that can happen? I just sold my soul. I didn’t even ask for money.