My back aches from lying on the hard, yet smooth surface of my kitchen floor. My eyes stare at a yellowed patch of linoleum on the ceiling, straining from being open for hours, barely blinking. I feel a dull pain in my neck, a crick, beginning to form. I spread my arms out, fingering the frictionless tiles lying below me. My eyes begin to grow weary, and I finally close them.

I move my body to sit up, my arms hugging my knees to my chest. I feel like I'm plummeting as I sit, my body falling into an endless pit. An endless pit that's encasing my body, taking every feeling along with it, leaving me numb.

I am trapped inside my own mind. Thoughts swirling around, each trying to send a message to my brain to stop to do something to feel. But those commands get caught in the storm that is my mind and they never reach my brain.

I am tired. I am hurt.

Each moment I am alive is like a nail, cutting into my skin, pain sticking to my body.

This numbness has taken over my life, my body. I want to feel something, but I can't. I want to feel happiness, jealousy, anger, even sadness, if it means I will feel something.