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It's a bit like surgery. Somebody comes and opens you up, and you feel hecka vulnerable, because you know some serious damage can be done. Sometime it happens, because you give him the OK, but other times you don't have much of a choice. Sometimes, someone comes and completely rearranges everything. He shuffles everything around, occasionally turns things into a huge mess, and puts new things in that seem to fit better than the old ones. But only time can tell if those things actually fit better. Sometimes, someone peers in, flips your stomach around, and is gone before your stomach even realizes it's upside down. Sometimes, someone puts things back in exactly the right place, and you feel as if you're functional for once in your life. Sometimes, you panic, because you have no idea what's going on down there, whether or not you're able to trust him to put take your kidney out or whether or not you're able to keep sane through the whole thing. Sometimes, someone will leave you there, half-sewn up, guts and all. You'll eventually learn to sew your own stitches, and your skin knows how to close itself up, but you know that even after the healing process, your insides are still exactly how the last person left it. And then there's always, always, that one person who has his hand around your heart the whole entire time, and you can never tell if it's you holding his hand there, or if he's just refusing to let go.