Now I think that maybe you can’t make people understand you. They either do, naturally, magically, because it’s written in your eyes in a language only the right sort of person can read, or they just don’t, and it will always be a puzzle, whatever it is. You can’t teach what you can’t even put into words. I am sad and broken for no good reason, selfishly, willfully destroyed, and this is how. This is a roadmap of my shattered pieces. You can’t do that, not just because of how silly and self-indulgent the words will sound even before they leave your mouth, but because it won’t work. The same as being physically naked does not equate inherently to intimacy, no matter how many movies you’ve seen, emotional nakedness on its own is not the stuff of love and connection and meaning and understanding. It’s only nakedness; it only makes everyone nervous.