I’m sitting in a crowd, filled with people, and no one is listening.

Each day is a battle, and yet you don’t see me.

Every day another jigsaw puzzle piece no longer fits, and I’m crumbling, struggling to stay up right.

I’m a good person, aren’t I?

They say good things happen to good people.

Perhaps that’s the problem.

Perhaps I’m a parasitic worm, and not a person at all.