Where do the words go when I need them most? Probably the same place my supposed friends, and my family go. When words do arrive, they taste of sulfur and acid. My stomach turns at their presence as I curse the night and more so the interminable day. I feel the anguish, pain, and sadness, building to the inevitable explosion at the most inopportune moment.

Of course. Strength, endurance, hope and faith are heading for the door. Sure, why not? Cowards.