The next three months passed by in a blur. Each day, Gordo wished away the pain, and each day, he was forced to extract the pain. Let it run from him. Punish himself, while punishing others. Relieving the pressure building within. Forcing himself to feel something. Anything. He had grown increasingly apathetic towards his life. When he thought about it, it made him sad, so he ignored it completely, and felt nothing. He didn't even feel anything while in the presence of Lizzie anymore. He just drifted along with a melancholy expression plastered onto his face. His father was still in complete denial. Reassuring Gordo, and more specifically, himself, Gordo's dad could be heard saying, "Don't worry, any day now, she'll realize everything she's missing. It's just her pride. She knows she was wrong but she's too proud to admit it. Don't worry. She'll be back. I know it." This kind of talk only made Gordo feel sorry for his father, then extreme guilt that there was nothing he could do to help him. School, had also become a blur. Most of the day was spent staring off into space, his mind completely blank. He just drifted, like a feather falling to the ground. It didn't just fall, it glided, following the wind sideways, landing on other desinations. Drifting. Gordo's grades had dropped slightly, because of his lack of energy. If he never moved again, he felt it would be too soon. The urge to come home, pop a few tylenol p.m.s and sleep all day, was greater than ever. Still, when the stress of life consumed him, or when he felt too numb to move, Gordo indulged in his secret vice. Yet, there wasn't much space left. Some of the wounds healed. Some left scars. Some were carved into shapes or words. Others just stuck out, blatantly. Still, no one noticed.