I feel like I'm being moved by strings... lifted up and falling. Someone's screaming inside my head, running sharp long finger nails down the sides of my skull. The nails are painted red. I don't feel a thing as the needles puncture my skin. In and out. The threads hold my skin in place. They're paper thin.. and flaky. The cloth is tearing, giving way at the seams. and there's no one there to stitch it back this time.