As the rest of the city of Albany slept after a day filled with the consumption of the cliche foods often associated with thanksgiving and meandering conversations with not so distant relatives, Michael could not bring himself to his bed. He was not a stranger to the late hours of the night, for over the past year he had spent this time in solitude, feeling sorry for himself. Thoughts of her still continued to haunt him even though she was long gone and much time had passed since the summer winds of Albany had scattered the pieces of his broken heart. Love was the void in his life and the plethora of marijuana and alcohol he often surrounded himself with were not enough to fill it, nor were the different types of medical care he had tried over the past year. They all had the same effects. They left him wanting more. As a result his addictions to alcohol and marijuana kept his bank account low and his waist band increasing ever so slightly at a constant rate. The therapy was an obvious waste of time and money to him, the zoloft almost wound up killing him with an overdose, the hypnosis didn't do anything and the homeopaths just tasted awful. He was either too smart or too scared of suicide, he wasn't sure which. Any new dating prospects that came up were scared off immediately by a sense of his desperation and a make up with her, although tangible, would result in the repetition of past failures. He was repulsed by the pick up scene due to the fact that it was emotionally unsatisfying and he was terrible at it. Depression had him in a submission hold. Life was a struggle against its inherent pains and loneliness. Everyday was a battle. He was royally fucked.