Since all my rights don't negate my wrongs, I ask myself time and again why I even bother attempting to be good and do good. Seriously, why the hell am I even trying?! It is really no surprise why I see so much truth and reality in my fiction world. Books and movies. Ironic indeed that I see reality in make-belief. But, I really don't expect myself not to, given the circumstances. If death is what it takes to set things right around here, so be it. I'm done trying.

And in the fleeting moments of solitude, all the memories come rushing back to me and every bone of mine aches. Stinging eyes are all I'm left with as music plays in the distant background.

This too shall pass.