A choir of pensive voices, the voices of my emotions sings a sonota. The 1st movement of Realizationg, the 2nd movement of Melacholy, and the 3rd movement of Dispair all ring out withing my head. The fact that the only satisfaction I've ever recived has been educational or sexual pushes me into a pit, a lake of piranahs, ripping my hope appart and drowning my sorrow in more sorrow. My bones are crushing, my dopamine reserves are deminishing. I've no friends to express to, no mistress to content. My life is beginning to apear futile. Bleek! Valueless! What am I to do?!