There are a lot of people here; I begin to think to myself, particularly at this time in the morn'. I was now used to these lines that went on for miles and hours. Though, I used to be in different lines, those that attacked and prodded at your very soul. I was a SOLDIER. Now, I am just a man, a broken one, waiting for his next meal as all these others. The man next to me mutters something under his breath, my father used to do the same. I wonder where they have gone in my absence, for they no longer live here in Radiant Garden. We used to be so happy, so carefree when we all lived here. Now, that has all ended, and I have seen it, along with our freedom, writhe up and die. My entire world was crushed by the war. My family has all gone, my girl left me, and my friends forsaken me. I used to joke about them and laugh at some, but now I find I would hold them most dear. I have no one, nor job and munny. I live underneath the stars, my place of only solace and long to travel them again away from this wretched memory. I have to leave this solace, though, every day at sunrise to get to this line at the shelter. I stay here until dinner has been served and most are gone. Those who stay ask me questions, like, "Who are you?" or "What is your name?". I always reply, "My name is NOBODY, for I am one who was forgotten."