nothing cuts through anymore. they say growing thick skin is a good thing, but they forget to tell you at a certain point you become only skin. nothing gets in. words aren't sharp enough and neither is the world. at a certain point you carve yourself open hoping for love but the whole world comes rushing through instead & it gets in your lungs, crushes your chest, slices up your nerves. and you wonder how you could've ever thought that this seizure, this sickness, would be better than nothing.
