The days grew longer and the nights colder, and yet I still amounted to nothing more than the specks of dust gathering in the back of my mind that covers the memories I dare not look upon again. My eyes became weary and after several long years my smile was non-existent and it was almost as if it was never there. They tried to snap me back into a reality that I wanted no part of and I showed them that each time I swallowed yet another mouthful of tablets, but they never listened no matter how loud I cried. They think I am damaged and broken, they think they can fix me, but I have never been more whole nor seen so clearly. I alone see the world for what it really is; a wasteland, and I alone am the only one who understands that it is better to jump ino an early grave than be pushed in by the weight of sorrow, betrayal and heartache. If not now, when?