What he is.

He sits and re-examines his life that he has developed throughout eighty-four years. Most of what he can recall, he cannot properly capture. He feels as though it may have been only a dream. He routinely edits events that have brought him to his present state. He wonders how things would have turned out differenly if he had taken a different course. He stands firm, believing that every action results in consequence; consequently, he is haunted with never ending regrets.

He questions his experiences, not truly knowing whether the experiences that he can recall are his unaccomplished goals or merely stories once told to him by friends, of their experiences. Occasionally, he finds himself believing that a quick but drawn-out inhale of a cigarette can ease his pain. He often strategizes, contemplating a series of ways that he could overcome his present and his future.

Within his life, he sees failure. Failure to seek out new and exciting things. Failure to experience life and live it to its fullest potential. He often persuades himself into believing that he lived life differently. He wants to believe that he has many accomplishments, living in an alternate reality free of regret.

Often, he is seen staring blankly ino the world; some think that he is trying to get away from reality, playing himself in a world of hope and imagination. The vacant look that comes from deep within his eyes bares his true feelings that lie deep beneath his musky scented clothing and his rickety frame. His soul is crying, terrified of what he knows, as well as fearing what he has become.

He is alone. He is lost.