I am terrified of what to say when you ask me how my day was and I cannot tell you how my mom passed out with the stove on. I am terrified because my home life is so dysfunctional. my room reflects my introverted self, how am I supposed to let someone new in? I cannot tell you how the house reflects my mother’s broken strings and her attempt to replace all that was lost. I don’t know if you will still know me if I tell you the ways I’ve learned that loss is what defeats us in life. I don’t know how to explain this all to you or if you’ll understand. I am intimidated by the way your family seems to have it all together. I am scared you won’t accept me when you get parts of me you didn’t know were there. I’m scared you won’t understand, I’m scared you will