I open the door to the fear landscape room and flip open the small black box that was in my back pocket to see the syringes inside. This is the box I have always used, padded around the needles; it is a sign of something sick inside me, or something brave.

I traded cowardice for cruelty; I traded weakness for ferocity.

I get up, because I’m supposed to, but if it were up to me, I’d stay in my seat for the rest of time.

I think about pressing myself against him, but I can't, because all our secrets would keep a space between us.

It's like he knows, he knows I have a thing for her.

I feel bare. I didn't realize I wore my secrets as armor until they were gone and now everyone sees me as I really am.

Someone shouts, "Enough!" and I think too much and nothing at all.