... an intangible vacuum with invisible stings from all sides, yet without sides, without direction. Roadsigns are a sadistic joke, leading nowhere. A void. When I laugh, others don't laugh with me.
When they laugh, my numbness swallows it up and leaves me with quaking dust.

I'm the king of all liars. I fake coping very well (until put to the test), yet the demons taunt me from behind, from the sides, with voices others can't hear. Words that aren't words. Language that no human being can understand. A snarl, a knife in the ribs, a hint of "don't flinch - just look pretty!". The doctors can't know a fraction, because no words can contain it. Just call it "having a bit of a rough time at the moment" and then ask then about their week.
Liar!!! it screams.