How can one introduce others into the works of the soul? How can I honestly expect others to see the words that have been written? Should I post pictures to say the thousand words I could otherwise say? Should I invite them over and show them my scars? Should I hide it all from everyone except myself? Things I want to scream while everyone is around. I never wished for pity. I never wanted for someone saying they were sorry for me. I would rather have apathy than anything else. I would rather have a silence where I can suffocate. This is my cry for help. This is my admittance that I have a problem. This is my solution. This is my life. In words written in pain. Blood spilled in sorrow. Scars remembered the next day silently. This is what I hide from others. This is who I am.