I weave together these words, keeping them on the tips of my fingers, so I have something to do with my hands when I feel at a loss. Others' words about how I feel makes me feel recognized and understood, I'm sure you understand. So I keep a needle in one hand and a thread in the other, and I construct sense from nonsense, or I try. I keep pricking my fingers. I'm not getting anywhere, with these scraps, but I'm doing something, so I keep at it, I'm weaving something to keep me warm, maybe. It's been chilly lately, as I expected, but somehow the cold continues to take my breath away (to use a cliche in the wrong context). Tell me how I should feel. Sometimes I'll read something and think, "Exactly!" and I'll try to memorize it, or underline it. I can never seem to get the pieces together, the words in the right place. Sometimes I think I've finally nailed it, described it all, and then I'll feel something else and it'll all fall through my fingers.

I'll get tired of it eventually, find something else to keep me occupied, another thought to keep running through my mind like a pebble in water. Though, instead of finding another scar to trace over, again and again, how about we create something new.