When you come home to yourself but you do not know yourself, you feel like a stranger in your own house. The last time you knew who were was in the womb so you lie in the fetal position hoping to recreate that certainty. And when I say you I mean me, but it really feels like a you because I don’t know me. I am trying to find my identity in a space that constantly tears me apart in an effort to put me back together. So here I am, on the floor crying tears that I cannot figure out the meaning of. I ignore the school work piling up. Anxiety turns into depression and depression turns into weight on the bones.