I carry baggage like a child on a mothers back. Do you think some people just go through life without having the happiness knocked out of them? Do you think that someone out there doesn't know the darkness? Doesn't know the visceral reaction to the sound of glass breaking. The numbness, the dullness. Doesn't understand locking yourself away for months at a time? Or are we all born with this already ingrained in us? A hive mind of sorrow. A perpetual state of uneasyness. Do you not hear it? Do you not smell it? They say death is a smell that sticks with you, sticks in your nose, and stays around for a while. It brings you back into a memory. It rots away your insides, slowly but surely eating what it can. And before you've realized, everything you've known is gone.