I worry that reality doesn’t exist, or that time is built wrong. I know the definitions aren’t right but I can’t prove anything. Sometimes I don’t know what I’m afraid of and most of the time I feel like I’m carrying around a sack full of existential guilt. I try to explain myself to people that I know so that I will know how to explain myself. It doesn’t work, I keep finding hurdles built out of the gaps in our experiences and the absence of appropriate language. I stutter before I speak and my meanings come out jittered.