My heart is heavy, like a stone. It falls, succumbing to its own massive weight, and shatters, like my stability. I am cold. It hurts to breathe and it hurts to smile. My lips tremble and I fall to my knees in a hollow, shaking portrait of insecurity. I hold my head in my hands as the tears, the only results of my efforts, tumble down my cheeks. I wipe them away. No use. They keep coming back, more of them and more pain than the first time. My hands shake and I hear myself choking, sobbing, breaking. I try to see the lined paper before me. My tears blur my vision, but I can still feel it as my hands search for it, groping around like a blind child searching helplessly for its mother. I breathe, no longer feeling any emotions other than sorrow and hate, anger and desparation. I sit on the floor, no more tears left to cry to represent my misery. I am empty and alone. Like a child's doll, lost in the toybox, no voice of its own to cry out for help. That is what I am. An empty doll without a voice.