There's a hole in my chest where my heart used to be, gaping and wide. Draining me of life. The wind rattles my bones, creaking like an old house. My face is wet. My vision is blurry. I rip at my insides and see red. Clawing away at my imperfections and ugliness. It's overwhelming.
Stop, they say. Doesn't it hurt?
No. I can't feel a goddamn thing.