I see the destruction. I see the aftermath of the verbal communication that went awry. I feel every broken bone in my body with a nauseating pain, dizzying me.

I didn't mean for any of it to happen. It was never supposed to end up this way. All I tried to do was make everyone feel normal but... I ruined it all over again.

What went wrong? What happened along the way that disrupted the original meaning behind what I tried to say? Why can't people see that I'm truly not trying to be petty?

I see the stitches and needle in front of me. I see the tape and ties. I see the materials I need, and I pick them up with certainty. The stitches so painfully weave in and out of my lips, my hands shaking as my mouth aches. But I stitch my mouth together one by one, keeping it closed shut.

I tape over my mouth and tie it up, blocking words from ever getting out. I try to speak but the words get stuck in my throat as I choke and swallow them down. I smile painfully, the stitches creating a grotesque picture underneath my mask. Every word I swallow down boosts my heart, floods adrenaline through my veins. I can no longer hurt anyone else.

The rush keeps me alive. I'm no longer noticed, a faded picture in the background with no words to utter to anyone. The buzz of excitement causes every muscle in my body to shake violently, the words I bottle up turning into extra energy.

With my mouth stitched shut, I can no longer speak words that others will misinterpret and twist for their own understanding.