He sits all alone in the middle of the night. Crying tears of pain. Tears of hurt. Tears of sadness. What is life, he murmeres. What is life when nothing excites me anymore? When the biggest things have the smallest impact? He does not know the love people have for him. He does not see it. No, he sees a sea of people who love his exterior. But internally, they knew not of his pain. Who could? He thought. Who cares about the man who looks like he has it all together? No one. He runs his hands through his long wavy blond hair, as he tries to find truth. To find something. Anything. That could save him from this state of mind and bring him to ecstasy. Bring him life again. As he opened the drawer next to his bedside, he saw a black book with letters written in gold. He opened it and began to read. Only minutes later, he picked up a pen and opened his journal. I've found God, he wrote.