I forget to tell anyone that I’m going out. All my friends are worried. Say it’s all in my head, still. My insides are dry and cracking. The deafening silence is screaming through me. Starting over again. I haven’t been making my bed because I’m always asleep and I’m afraid to wake up because I don’t like the things I see. And when I leave, I lock the door even though I forget to tell anyone that I’m going out. I’m just going to wander the fields that perimeter the town and wonder why I didn’t do the things I wish I did. Nothing is freeing and this hole in my chest reminds me that the hollow parts of me can’t be permanently filled. So I try to eat the cement from the cracks in the sidewalk and all it does is break my teeth. And I forget to tell anyone that I’m going out so they all rush to leave me be- sink back into their routines ever, so gently. Nothing feels that safe to me. I’m lost in the process of trying and being and doing that I sleep through all my alarms. Please don’t ask where I’m at or where I’m going because the world is a scary place and I’m sick of trying to please it. So when I go out I’ll slam the door shut- tell the world to stay behind. Lay on the side of an unlit highway and count the cars rushing by. Wondering where they’re going this late at night and ask myself the same question. I’m taking more time to submerge myself in tears, but nothing is coming out so my eyes keep drowning. And everyone knows that I can’t swim, so if they knew of this sticky act then maybe they’d try and save me, but I forgot to tell anyone that I’m going out. -AMT