"Hello.... My name is Sandra.... I suppose that you're probably just another voice in my head... something that I should tell those... shrinks about.... they'd probably say that you're just another figment of the guilt in my life... but I don't mind it..... because.... right now, you're about the closest thing I have to a friend right now.... And... since... since you're new.. would... would you like to know.... know why I'm here?.... In the psych ward of some place far away from family and friends....far away.... from the life I used to have.... from the engagement.... from my now ex-fiance... It all started... with a child I saw on the side of the road...." Life holds no meaning. Just clock in, clock out, day after day.... it becomes monotonous... it becomes the world to you... it's a schedule... something you can't say no to..... there's a rhythm to everything and you can't stop it. You go to work, act happy, pretend that you don't mind getting paid less than that fucker in the big office next to you who's five years younger than you. Paste a big, fucking fake smile on your face and give a hideous little laugh when one of your little office mates tells a joke. You then go home, sit in the chair that costs more than it's worth (The piece of shit), and try to relax while watching shows on the TV of lives you will never have. Then you go to the bathroom, take a shower, and go to bed, sleep, and dream about things that will never happen.... History repeats itself over and over again, and you don't even realize that your brain is starting to melt from the disillusioned happiness you think you have. Until something disrupts that rhythm, and forces you to see the doom of the life you live. For me, it was the day that I met Geetle. No jokes. That really was her name. TO BE CONTINUED.