Angst.

There are times in life where you just want to feel selfish.
Where you just want people to scramble on their feet to save you from your danger; look you straight in the eyes as a myriad of emotions flicker through your eyes.
There are times where you just want to be alone.
Locked away from all of the outsiders whom find none other to do then to bang on your door and cry on your doorstep with a shriveled figure. Unbeknownst to your silent sobs and gentle whimpers.

Or possibly, the times where you just felt like an anomaly, not special neither being appreciated by others.

That's when you think, or know that your life is falling onto you like a shower of bricks.
Hurt, bruised, shattered all at once.
And that's when phony little heroic figurines foolishly try to mend you and hold you together, and to your own surprise, you feel better.

Once or twice, you tapped your fingertips onto they keys of the piano, reminiscing the memories you shared with its delicate and fragile structure. You gazed at it with a sad smile. It was on the verge of breaking, like you. You stroked the fine surface of the piano as a trail of diamonds slither down your cheek.

On top of the piano, lay a picture of you and your love.
You extended your hand and shakily picked the picture up. You clutched it to your chest and closed your eyes.

I Love you.