Hope. Faith. Lies. Hatred. Pain. Happiness. Me. Which one stood out most? I guess it doesn't really matter since both me and the color are being sucked out of the self-portrait I call my life. The edges are rough. Torn and tattered. Bruised and battered. Just like myself. I try to hide the scars, both the emotional and the ones caused by you. Indirectly, of course. You promised me we'd never be that. But, then again you promised a lot of things. You left me. You cheated on me, with death itself. What was I supposed to do? What did you expect of me? Stay strong? Curl up and hope for the best? I can't do it anymore. You need to hear me. Loud and clear. Could I visit you sometime? Stay for an extended vacation? Or did you want rid of me. Was it really all an accident? The unbearable pain is driving me psychotic. Crazy. I cannot survive this anymore. The cuts are getting deeper, and freedom is that much closer. The voices are becoming louder. Someone needs to save me and since you can't. I will. My name is Sonny Monroe, but you know that, and this is my last goodbye.