It seems like every time I think I've finally gathered up the shattered glass I had lost when I left I turn around and there it is again. Laying there, lifeless, like glass does. I imagine my body laying there, next to them. And sometimes that helps. But I'm afraid it doesn't any longer. That feeling is like a germ, after so long it mutates and becomes immune. Yes, immunity. That's what I need. Immunity from this feeling.