I knew that I was broken. Not in the way that people looked at you with pity in their eyes. Not in the way they coddled you and wrapped you in bubble wrap. Not in the way with tears and gentle hugs.

No. I was broken in the way that people would avert downcast eyes. In the way people stepped to the side with disgust radiating from every pore. In the way tears cut lines down my face, in the way I would rub my face red to rid myself of them.

In the way I asked for a watch every chance I got, pulling my sleeve down. In the way I doubted my sanity at times. In the way I never stopped screaming, even when no sound escaped my smile. I was broken in the way there was no return.