When I cry, everyone laughs. When I laugh, they scowl. Are they scowling at me? Is it because of my essence? I hate how my life is turning out.

They order and boss me around without rhyme or reason. I have yet to figure out why they do this. It might be how they have always felt about me, but they weren't like this before, especially you, so I ask what changed. Before was it an act? Did I ever matter?

My life is in ruins, and I can't collect the pieces. I cut my hands trying to pick up the sharp pieces that once made my soul. It doesn't hurt anymore; I can't feel the wounds. No longer can I feel. Every pain and every joy means nothing. When did it change? I do not seem to remember or maybe I do, but don't want to recall.

Everything I touch shatters as my world crashes down around me. Help me. Save me. I may not have a thing to live for, but I want to live. Please, return to me, and I might be saved.