You say you will help me through this. You say I'm here and i love you. You dont understand why i just shake my head and look away at something that isnt there. I came upon a metaphore for why this isn't possible, why i say i cannot be fixed. trying to fix me is like sitting on the side walk trying to put together a puzzle in the middle of a hurricane. when i find peices and put them together more are blown around. There is the basic outline still, but the middle is empty and mixed up. Even when the wind stops for a while, it does no good because people that have come in the past have taken peices with them. I could never be complete without them. And the people who stop by to help now only confuse things, they put together peices that dont go there. Because only i know what the puzzle is supposed to look like. Many try very hard, but in the end they just get frustrated and leave, so i no longer ask for help, i jut sit and stare at this hollow outline and the mess of peices, there are beautiful bits and peices here and there, but i know it wont ever be complete again. To many storms, and too many people who have taken paieces that will never return. and noone will ever know how it used to look, and noone can see the storm that im trapped in, but me.