I sit in a chair unbalanced. Teetering on the edge of what I believe is reality and the actuality of the situation. I can’t sleep. I’ve had one too many drinks. And instead of the slumber I was hoping for, that one last whiskey has me crying. I’m begging to die. I want the sea to swallow me whole. No reassurances. No comfort for me. So I put on that one Azure Ray album. You know the one. The one that has the songs I only listen to when I’m down. “The sun is out but happiness/only reminds you of the people you hurt/mistakes that you made when you were down.” I only listen to it when I’m in a deep depression; I want to believe the weight of the world’s problems all falls on my shoulders. So I sit. I wonder where I went wrong. “Can this be fixed? Will she love me again? Will I ever love again?” And I begin to think, the whiskey in my veins like blood, “Nothing will ever be right, true, or beautiful for me.”