My entire life has been a mistake. Mistakes can only lead to destruction. And now I am here. And I won't be alive much longer. I can hardly think of an escape plan in my state of panic. I try to tell myself I am numb. I tell myself I cannot feel anything. Not the sweat on my brow. Not the frantic rhythm my heart danced to. And I cannot feel the cold, unforgiving hands of the doctor. She presses the icy fingers of which I cannot feel, against the dense part of my stomach and shakes her head. I am not here. I am not in this place. My nightmares cannot be recognized if I am not here. If I just decide I won't recognize them. And I wont.