S  P  A  C  I  O  U  S 

It's one thing when I prescribe a feeling, it's another when I can't. In fact, it's bad when it's empty. It takes less than anger and needles to make me cry. All I need is vacuum. Ohh, now that it's in black and white I get it. I need space to make way for tears. I always thought I was a little wayward. I was empty while others cried. I looked as they wailed. I bawled as they smiled. Me. 

Like a sack of flour, it hit me. I wasn't weird, I was numb. Obviously I knew this before, hence the sack of flour instead of a ton of bricks. All I needed was a whack on the back to jerk that understanding up to the surface. I didn't have a bad childhood, quite the antithesis honestly. But we all share a commonality that trumps all, life on earth. A survivor wouldn't allow for products of Pandora to bring one down, they simply avoid it. To step back and like any futuristic director would like; press the multi-million tech watch and watch as a blue laser ball builds and surrounds a person, protecting the contents of this fragile balloon. And of course, this laser ball only seen in 'The Incredibles' by Violet consists of the ingredient anaesthetic. And Panadol. They numb. Only we have the mental equivalent. And I do it well. I am unfeeling. Hm.

And then suddenly I'm alone in my ball. No one hears as I bang and clang the walls till my knuckles go sore. They walk past me like they don't see me. Too bad for me, I forgot the key to unlocking the numb.