He was alone, alone like a moon. Like a path in the park at night, his thoughts were outlining unrecognizable shapes of the bitterest despair and darkest sadness. With all his inner desires, forces, that were left after all the struggle, he didn’t want to believe in that. He didn’t want to admit that because that would’ve have changed the name of his life to “nothingness” or decorate everything he did with a bright yellow word “worthless” in every sentence of his life. No, God, no… all the same, denying the truth didn’t help either. The truth that was so bright and obvious for everybody, except for him for so many years. He started feeling that something very obnoxious, mind-vomiting was crawling in his withering spirit, something that nobody would’ve been able to say out loud, or make fun of at that point.