It’s where my insecurity sits;
Alone.
Where my world became indefinitely blunt and broken.
Where I began self criticizing, processing, and destructing.

The place I decided to shut off all feeling,
Just to have my own pain intensified.
Just to break down again.
And again.
And again.

The place where these angels became the very waves
Destroying the collective of sandcastles
Built to mask my own, bare face
From, yet, another eye-fallen, salty river.

It’s where I’m either too hot,
Or too cold.

The place where I used to dream of warm weather.
Before storm clouds invaded the sun’s shine.
The storm that ingests happiness, laughter, and fantasy.
The storm that leaves you with depression.
The place where my dreams become nightmares,
Where sleep became insomnia,
Where happiness became the illusion you see.
The one and only place where the extrovert sits in silence.