Theres that note again, it keeps addressing me.

"Keep happy" it says, "its my job to keep you happy"

Others write too to me, but i'm stuck.

no pen or paper to reply with.

these letters become more depressing and miserable,

they speak as if im a wall, ever stareing to nothingness.

the possesions i have is a bed and a window.

what is there to do other than to sit and stare at the door keeping me.

"I'm sorry" it writes "i'm not doing my job, your not happy, you dont respond"

"are you even alive?"

This hurts, hearing the troubles of thier words, i cry.

Is there nothing to be done?

my hand shakes in fury of my own inability

"I'M HERE!" I yell only to hear a letter slipped under the door.

"Goodbye"

Yelling, kicking, swinging my fists like a tantrum of a child

then i see red, my forearm scraped by the wall.

I'm not dead, but i must save them.

I bite, the pain surgeing through my hand.

This is the sacrifice i must make to save them.

finger trembleing, stinging, each stroke reflected the letters and notes recieved.

Remembering them to the very emotion they wrote

done

my blood dry to be sent out.

"Speak, I will Forever Listen"