He lets himself go back to the halcyon days, pre-hardship and hallucinations; before his cheeks and heart hollowed out. He lets himself go, knowing that upon his return, the fall will be hard. As of late he has become ever more adept at sliding back and forth. His need becoming increasingly incessant and ever more heartbreaking. Nowadays he awaits the happy ending of halos, harps and her. Hardly a moment goes by that he doesn’t think of her and her huge love of life. This is his hell on earth. Hiding hadn’t helped. Hollering and hitting out offered some relief, but it was short-lived. Like a capable medicine man he learned that the best thing to do was to let himself slide back into the past, sometimes for hours. At times he would wake up still sitting at the breakfast table, only to realize it was past noon. Other times he would find himself in a haze, awakening on a park bench at dusk, having sat down when the sun had been high in the sky. How he hoped that one day soon she would once again appear by his side, their hands entwined. How he hoped that one day soon he would not awaken.