If it's any consolation... I know that life has better points. I can remember them. And maybe one day I'll experience them again. As fleeting as they are. But right now and right here. As I sit here in my dilapidated room. I feel a lost hope. The kind of hope that kills you more than any breakup, or dramatic event can. I stare at strangers these days. Not because I want to see them, but because I'm trying to remember what it felt like when faces meant something. The mirror's become a stranger too. Sometimes I stand there, touching my cheek, wondering if skin is supposed to feel this cold. They say the opposite of love isn't hate - it's indifference. But they're wrong. The opposite of everything is this: watching yourself forget how to be human, one heartbeat at a time.