Ethan wrote in his journal that he was forced to keep by his doctors. It was weird how staying here in the mental institution was reminiscent of high school. The page was plastered with his disarrayed handwriting that formed a poem. Ethan nearly smiled as he printed words on the crisp lined paper, he never felt more confident in his ability to make a mark on whoever read it.

Folded in an envelope and labeled with a J, Ethan dropped his work in the mailbox.