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The sad piano crawls its way across the walls and I find myself face to face with the reality of what a disappointing picture this became once the film folded back upon itself and marked the mistakes I made along the way of trying to make it whole. But becoming obsessed to the point of delusion with the tiny fragments, details... forgetting all too quickly what the entire situation portrayed... I found myself against the back of the couch, sobbing into my empty hands... at a loss for words, and carried away softly by the soft, sad piano songs my mind played in repeat. Too many realizations to hold on to... and no strength to lift myself from that place and moment... I found it comfortable to just cry. And the arms of my lover lacked the grace and composure to save me from myself... what I truly needed... a savior in place of what I wanted to be... admitting that I could not save myself. And I buried myself beneath the stained carpet... underneath the dirty laundry... and sat behind the couch, giving in to the screaming and the accusations stabbed into my pitiful face... I sobbed into my empty hands and reached out for something... but I had given it all away. With no address for returns.