I woke up, staring into the eyes of my fear. I feared one day I'd be alone, by myself with no one to hold at night when the earth is in its darkest moments. I hated waking up to reality. It failed me every time, I mean it's not like reality ever pulled through. I never felt so empty inside, even when I would walk the streets of Manhattan, I still had the people of New York to keep me company. Well less company more surrounded with people that cared less about my well being. It was better than having no one around. Not even a pet, or a child to call my own. I was alone, and I would stay alone until my death bed. For this I believed, no matter what happened or who came into my life.