It seems that I have forgotten who I am. They told me that I would make it through this but they were wrong. I've lost any control I've had. I'm your wet article of clothing, hanging from the clothesline outside. The wind sways me back and forth. Rocking away my problems and submersing me in my own thoughts. I get a brush from a child's hand, and the song of the birds in the morning. That's all the comfort I need anymore. I never thought you'd let me get to this point. But you did. You forgot me and I forgot you. That's all there is left. The cold runs through my bones and my blood runs chilled. I'm okay with that now.