Nothing changes. Every day ends the same. You come home, greet your family, light up a cigarette and lay down. You stare up at the ceiling, though you don't really look at it. You just sit there, thinking. Watching old memories in your head. Reminising about the good old days. Though they weren't that different from these days. You tell yourself, oh, how things have changed. But they really haven't. Nothing changes. Every day ends the same. You come home and things are still the same.