I stare back into the glass and find a sullen face; transparent eyes and pale skin. The hair has gradually thinned and lost it's luster. The rouge completely drained. Nothing left but the skin and bones of a lost soul.

An internal struggle of the body versus the mind. Who can win? The mind is a powerful thing to lose; however, when it's gone the rest is soon to follow. A destiny only resulting in a sack of bones.

Over the years, I let it win. Repeatedly, I couldn't fight it and I failed. I lost my mind, I lost myself, let it go to hell. A stranger in my own body. I would never be the same.

In the end, my mind was my weakness. I ignored the signs and I let myself drown in my own demise. I didn't lose it, it mislead me only to spit out a mangled, distorted excuse for myself.