Sometimes I forget other people have feelings. Sometimes that they’re even human. I awoke to the sound this morning. My world shook and I was ripped from my dream. I’m consumed by whatever madness lives within me. The pressures of just smiling weighing me down. I look in the mirror and see the edges cracking. I am a book rebound and taped. Mended and re-mended. The weather’s perfect for these feelings of personal isolation. Nothing bothers me. Nothing that isn’t me, anyway. I bother me. I’ve always bothered me. The weeding process started yesterday (being Wednesday at the time of this post). Discarding books like discarding children, it’s not something a person with a heart can do. At the moment, these withdrawals will be…