Mood: Physically, the Maiden looks very much well and capable, but inside, it's a --it slowly kills her.

At the ultimatum of my teenage depression, I find the pattern--Through the surge of the suburb labyrinth, it stands out like a Golden Plaque. I couldn't care much, but I did care enough to keep it.

But at the urge, I feel the iron-like substance slip down my throat. And right then I knew.

Its the same old cycle, yet different in one way or another. One thing's for sure. Im sick, and tired. Physically and maybe even emotionally..