I enjoy my thoughts of dread. I live in my room that is full of nothing. I look to the future and let it pass me by. I despise the draining doubts that I discover when I’m alone. I stare at my ceiling. If I stare longer, harder, more attentively… Will I find an answer? No. There are no answers written on my ceiling. There are no answers found in the folds of my brain. All I see is the hazelnut paint coating my ceiling. All I hear is a droning noise radiating from my alarm clock. I accept the status of my life—endless doubts… yet no solutions, remedies, or treatments. I shut my eyes. The disillusions fade away. I wake up to go through the motions of yet another day.