I am here. Sitting, waiting. Thinking of a future that never should have gotten formed. But does one know of futures? I am asleep, having nightmares. Scary, shapeless forms, distorted expressions. Looking ahead, with tired eyes, red rimmed, determined, scared. Holding a pencil, scribbling patterns on a piece of paper that already feels abused, soiled. Some of the markings are tearing the paper already. Black markings, won't go, even if you try and erase them. I have been in love. It's nice. I have been alive. That's nice too. A lot better than cotton candy. And fresh blueberries. But I am here now. Sitting, waiting. Thinking of a future that should never have gotten formed.

A void. Nothing.