Duct tape can't fix everything.

Sometimes I think I have the strength to tell you what's in the stomach of my brain, but no matter how hard I try, I can never throw it up onto the page where you can see it. 

Sometimes I think I have the strength to tell you "I miss you too, but do you really mean it? Because I haven't seen you in a month. And all I want is for someone to care." But all that comes out is: I miss you too. 

And there I go again, getting my strings pulled by a puppeteer that isn't even there when I look up.