It’s like the people in my life are vultures and my self esteem and mental health are the decaying rodents on the side of the road that the vultures just Pick pick pick at until there is nothing left but the stain of what I once was. Like the shadow of a life that never becomes whole, happiness, that sweet bright light that was dimmed so young, like the missing piece of the puzzle stolen from the box, never complete, never whole, always missing. -poem I wrote in one my most depressed states.