Stuck in a squared ring, I dance across the floor. Realization dodges left, and dodges right; my feared opponent. I try desperately to keep up with it, yet I soon grow fatigued. As my body slows down, my mind races on. Realization comes at me to hit me full force. I soon feel like a stranded car stuck on burning train tracks. I can see the mechanical power bolting towards me, yet there is nothing I can do about it. Realization comes crashing into me, knocking me senseless, and leaving me unwound. Numb from all the pain I have just experienced, I sit stupidly on the floor of my life. Attention span fleeting as a summer butterfly, I soon toy with my surroundings. I wish not to spend long hours worried over education, something that I know I will receive without worry. I wish not to spend long hours worried about the rest of my life, something I know I can cherish one step at a time. Instead of dwelling on the empty cavity inside of me that seeks closure, I decide to dwell on the simpler things in life. I take notice to the acts of kindness permitted by those around us. Here I sit and change thoughts constantly, I watch couples unite, fights ignite, and families reunite. I am the careful observer that is outside of everyone's view. I watch those around me get hurt, and I try my hardest to set them straight. At times I feel I am Atlas, holding more than I can bear on my weary shoulders. Those times I know I am only over exaggerating my position, that in fact I am only a slave to the sack I throw over my shoulder. And a slave becomes exactly what I am. I am a slave to an addiction, and I am an addict to get away from my problems. I tend to ignore the demons that dwell in my closet, in favor of cleaning out another's. I brush of any revelation of this with a smile and a shrug. My subconscious mind became a schoolteacher, and I was taught that every one else came first. In the same lesson I was taught to show no one what was wrong with me, to be the iron man of a perfect society. The latter of the doctrine didn't seem to seep all the way into my brain, and soon the truth came boiling out. My mind, the source of all my thoughts, was always a dormant volcano. Thought to be extinct, till a few rumbles, I believed all was ok with it. Soon, truth came out, and the volcano exploded. Chaos: the likely companion of volcanic activity, ruled over my thoughts with heartless gestures. I was stuck fighting back the magma that threatened to choke my body, when suddenly my opponent changed. I found myself in the square ring, with realization. I was defeated, but only physically. As soon as this mortar had hit me, I realized that the emptiness I felt needed to be filled. Torn between an immortal struggle of epic proportions; I wage war against the issues that conquered my body. I want to know what to do, to end this pain, to live a life without the disruptive tidal waves that crash into my shore. I try to throw away the battered schoolbooks that cover my desk, I try to learn a new constitution, and I try to forget everything that has happened to me. Nine months in is what I wish to revert to. I wish to dissolve away into a negative state, where upon my only option is positive. Yet all this is as useful as a child's broken toy, only treasured fancies of experiences and wishes.

Whoever, I wish I wasn't so disillusioned by the society around me. Whoever, I wish could just wear that face, and just be. Whoever you may be that cares, I don't know what to do, and I'm facing the black hood every day. When was I poisoned? Obviously the answer lies within my past, so I find myself taking a load off my feet, and I watch my life flash before my eyes. Sadly, seconds later I find tape player whirring, and my life over. It never ended, yet it never finished. I contemplate the exact moment I became poisoned, and I find it was when I was introduced to how cruel and inhumane life is. Eyes closed to Whomever's justice, I make blind accusations. I believe this is how things are and this is how things are going to be. That retched day, the day that lurks in my mind, crawling at my brain like the undead to the ground, is a day I wish upon no one. Though the final push off the cliff of fantasy becomes the fact that everyone experiences this, and it's becoming sooner than later. This is the cause for the empty part of me that can never be filled again. My heart is a canteen that has sprung a leak. No matter how much love can be poured into it, it was stabbed that day, and I am forever scarred. So I hide it, I hide it the best way I can. I act, act like sunny day, even on my most rainy days. What can I do, but throw myself in front of the bullet? I see no other way but to become an unknown bodyguard. Until I can sort through all the clutter that exists in my attic, you will always be before me.