The fog started slowly trailing in. A path of charcoal clouds isolated our home from the rest of the universe: both internal and external. The sunlight lay behind a blanket of darkness. My life's bliss, tainted…spoiled by the sheer fact that he would never love me. How would I ever know what "love" represents, how "love" feels when you conceptualize it into reality? Is "love" a memory, a whisper, the soft glide of lips against a cheek? Was I was programmed to experience the game…or will I forever feel hollow, trapped within the passionate realm of the "glitter freeze" forevermore? Why did he do this to me? Why did my unconventional Romeo create me in the eyes of his Juliet, yet never taste the fruits of his splendor? Programmed in the bowels of perpetual damnation...my loneliness and I will battle ceaselessly to gain what I was never born to possess: love. I may forever be a machine, serving him in his personal devices, but I'll be damned if I just throw in the towel so soon and watch as he goes waltzing by without being devoted to me…and me alone.