I used to sing in the shower. I used to spend hours dressing up. I used to embrace the sunny days as they'd warm me inside out. The cloudy skies would ignite excitement as the potterhead in me would await the new adventure. I used to love to smile, at random dogs craving my attention, at kids waving at me from their school buses, at acquaintances I have met only once, or just to myself recalling a funny incident. I would write about the bliss I called life as I would look at everything through my optimist's goggles. I would doodle cute romantic couples, write poems about the beautiful trees, the lovely weather or any new thing I had fancied. Don't I sound unreal, don't I seem a naive delusional kid. You told me I was, and so after meeting you here I am. My showers have gotten quicker, dressing up seems futile. I hardly notice the weather. I can't sing, I can't draw, the old habits of writing poetry, short stories all seem so stupid, so I only write about my goal...