There's this thing, in my head, that doesn't work. I'd say it's not the only one, but I don't want to sound overly dramatic nor that mental. My mind, just like the rest of my body, doesn't function like it used to back then. I was a good boy - not that I'm a dog, but if I were I'd definitely be a lab - and I still am today, but something's changed. Chemicals... Those bastards love to fuck around in my brain. And who has to suffer the consequences? Yeah, me, exactly, this stupid bitch, right here. As if the mood swings weren't already enough. “Michael, are you talking to yourself again?” whispers Luke from the desk next to me. He really needs to learn to mind his goddamn business, jeez. And I say “no”, you know, like a liar. I then rest my head on my crossed arms and sigh. As long as I live in this place, I'll be anything but me. The bell rings, but I stay still. “Michael, do you feel alright? You look a little wasted, buddy...” says John softly, running a hand through my lilac hair. “Not when it's forever halloween, John” I mutter. The last thing I see before closing my eyes is my best friend's face, shattered.