You sat in your room, the air thick with the candles you'd been burning, a desperate attempt to find comfort in life at the moment. There in front of you sat a simple art assignment. A self portrait in any medium. Problem being, potraying yourself in any way was like a needle in a haystack, cutting but ever present. With no sense of yourself to hold onto, you felt as if you were walking alone, wondering why. Why? You heard footsteps, too tired to really try and figure out whose it was. Your door creeked open, your older sister stepped in. Her face was a mix of concern and indifference, but it was better than nothing. --T: "Are you all right? Your face is all scrunched." Tori noted her tone flat but somehow welcoming.