This is what I get, all apologies, and not me in my skin. It's all I can be, it's all I know is real. I know I'm sorry, that's it. That's the only emotion I can pin down at times like these when it's not me in here. Everything else is lost, buried. Or maybe it was never there to begin with. Either way, it always feels like I'm a blank slate waiting to be scribbled on so I do my best with my chalk, but I erase everything before I get a chance to read it. The words that I do catch make me shiver and start to scream, but they are always erased before a release.

there should be so much more here or maybe it's so much less.

I made phone calls. Nothing from anywhere. Of course not. What good would I be if I didn't make sure to seal my failure at some point?

Exactly.