In The Stillness

That morning, my head was throbbing, unclear, my chest was tight and I was sick to my stomach, but it wasn’t the typical hangover feeling I had learned to live with. Buy, somehow, I managed to fall back asleep. I don’t remember dreaming, but I do remember wishing for my last breath. I can’t say that I prayed for it, since I never made praying a habit. But this came pretty close to praying for me. I had nothing left. I had lost everything—respect for myself, the respect of my family and friends, my drive to play music, and my sanity. I had no life, just an existence. I knew that I was done, that it was over. Fifteen years of insanity and destruction would soon be over. I could not go back.