i want to stop being sad. i want the sun to come out. i want it to be warm. i want my skin to color from excessive exposure to said sun. until then, i want to sleep. i want to stay in bed. i want to eat my feelings. i want to scream and cry. i want to break every piece of glass in my apartment, or his, its semantics. i want to bleed. i want to slice my skin with a devastatingly sharp knife and watch the blood pool and drip according to the laws of gravity. i want to disappear.