I’d often wondered what it was that made them so. What had happened in their lifetimes that created their common voids? From the outside looking in, their lack of aspiration made them static. The frailty I observed in their dreaming and wanderings wasn’t in jealousy; in fact my observations spurred the opposite feeling inside myself. These observations lit fires under me to become more and achieve more almost to atone for whatever it was they were not doing for themselves. Their lack of caring for others’ and the disregard to their own inner achiever seemed to me a cry for help and I envied them for nothing but the carelessness in which they made their decisions. But who am I to judge what happens in the dark recesses of their brains? I can’t help but continue to wonder, though, if a monster has crawled inside their bones, made them hollow, created a dead wood strewn across the forest of their minds? There has to be a monster seeping away their hopes, right? Some dangerous shadow licking at each frail, heirloom dream because if there wasn’t, it meant that I couldn’t understand them. The monster was easy for me to grasp, but their total disregard to any kind of self-made future, I could not fathom.