One more, just one. Well maybe two won't hurt. Another mistake made, another pill swallowed, another scar cut, another thought fabricated. I used to live a life of pure, untouched, innocent happiness. Now I live in painkiller-induced fantasies of death and despair. I stare at the clock, waiting for this to end. And I have only found that it gets worse. I used to look for a remedy. Now, all I want is an end.