And sometimes, sometimes the lack of tears is what's most frightening.

An impenetrable numbness that surrounds me.
Has molded around my being.
A hard shell that even a chisel cannot chip.

I am a stone. Cold, so cold.

When did I lose my heart?
When did I lose the ability to care and trust and feel?

Oh, to feel again.
The salty wet tears on hot rosy cheeks.
The rush of crisp fresh air filling my lungs, lifting me, enticing my smooth bare feet to take courageous steps on soft beds of grassy fields.

Where did that girl go? Carefree and whimsical. The girl who welcomed emotional instability. The ups and downs and all arounds are gone.

She has gone and I am here.
I am what's left.
I am the surviving soul.

My black, wretched soul.