• Snow tightens it's grip on a window. Frost blankets the once transparent window, and inside an old New York City apartment, of which the window once revealed the outside world, was dark. Blankets, victim to the ominous cold from outside, were stiffened and icy to the touch. The carpet beneath your feet felt as if it too were frostbitten. Shadows inhabit the corners. Hugging the walls with various forms, yet leaving without a trace as the comfort of light enters the room. That comfort, however, seems to have abandoned the world for tonight.

    Nestled in the thick comforter, a young man blissfully slumbers. Eyes shut tight, his body lays comfortably in the fetal position. His heart warming his insides constantly with determined thumps. Never backing down, at least until that final moment arrives. Lungs inhale and exhale calmly, made evident by the rising and falling of his chest. The cold air carressed his cheeks with sinister intent, and the pink of his flesh brightened from the cold. His pale skin only made the tint more obvious.

    Through his mind raced ideals of anarchy. The world they lived in, polluted by unjustified governmental thinking, was plagued by the corrupt. He wasn't always like this. There was a time when he was, happy. At a young age, his mind bothered him by constant revelations and epiphanies. Ideals for change, but not the talk some of these politicians promised. Promises can be broken, but raw will can not, at least not without a fight.