I feel so very out of place, sitting here amongst inanimate objects, looking at pictures of those I once knew, examining trinkets that once held some importance, which now sit cluttered up by the memories I can't recall with loves I once knew, that I thought forever could not touch, that were picked up by the next day and the next day and are quite scattered now, amongst all the worthless "treasures" of lives' I used to have, no more fitting into this current one, than I do this scene.