Your familiar voice sinks into my ears and I'm all too comfortable yet again--I hate it. We sing out our stories and cackle amongst ourselves. Then it happens, as if on cue, we stumble right into your delicate lies. The ones you've told your friends, co-workers, and family. The deceptive story of our past. Your impeccable fallacies wreak havoc on me, ravage me. How many years must one age til he realizes the measure of his mistakes? How wrong must one do before he is sorry?

Is this what has become of me? A constant reminder of my own fears? You are a product of your environment, it shapes you--molds you of the past and present. The mold is cracked, smoldering. Weak and crumbling--used and barren.

I feel desolate, dark....crestfallen. Having only the faintest flutter of a heartbeat. Shallow breathing, streaks glisten on my face. Strapped bare in the confines of my own mind. A slew of old memories always unfolding, a constant reminder of the ever lingering silence of my present loneliness.

I feel I'm searching for a fruitless nectar. That which I wish to obtain, again, is far from reach--forever from reach. I once thought it was unfathomable to fully grasp the loss, but I feel it's full weight now. Nights like this, when thoughts flood; can't help but aware myself that things are not what they once were and never will be.

I'd give anything to quell this feeling...