Erik was sitting there. Thinking over the night. Did no one notice him? Was he truly invisible? Was it like his mother always told him that he meant nothing and so no one would ever notice him? He had so many questions swarming through his mind. The biggest question was why. Why did it happen the way it had? Why hadn't his parents loved him? He kept his eyes closed and did not realize that the lasst of the patrons had left the club. It was his sanctuary. He had no where else to be. No place to live except the woods as a wolf. Life just was cruel and hateful towards him. He still hadn't saved up enough money to buy even a rinky dinky cheap apartment in the bad part of town. How much longer until he could afford a true home? Who knew.<br/><br/>He did not yet know someone had noticed that he was still here. He was broken by the hand life dealt him. It wasn't so much the life he led but the life that led him. It was strange but until almost two years ago his life hadn't been in his hands. They left him alive but barely more times than he could count. Yet not once did someone extend an olive branch of help his way. No one saved him so each day he lived but yet he died. Piece by piece he had been torn apart and destroyed. Tiny shards of glass remained of his soul and spirit. He was a living shell but yet struggled to keep his internal candlestick lit. it was such a small stubby little candle with a weak but flickering flame. Such a dim flame it gave no light to his eyes. Had it been much longer he would have been a living zombie. He would never have survived much longer. Would he have been driven to the point of suicide? Who knew but it was highly likely.<br/><br/>He spoke softly. "A dark and doomed day. A cold figure does he lay. A portion of flickering flame. A dying candlelight now whose to blame? An empty shell of a man. A willowy figure blown by such a strong fan..." He said outloud. Not yet noticing her. He blinked an only noticed her because of the sound of surprise. Snapping him out of a poem he was writing based on the thoughts he had recently had in his head. When solitude was what welcomed him yet mocked him with dark and dangerous thoughts. He always sat here long after everyone had gone. He saw her hand clutching her chest and if he could feel would have felt a pang of guilt for being the source of such shock.<br/><br/>She probably hadn't noticed him due to him not losing a muscle. Or the fact he had been quiet as death. He watched her approach with a faint amount of confusion. "Thanks...it is...what it is...because of how it is." He said softly. Looking down. "Sad...yes but...based off hidden truths veiled by shadows." He spoke in an empty but poetic way. He had stood when she came back out and headed to the exit. Yet again left alone to his thoughts. Then she stopped at the back exit. "Yes where else would I be but the woods of solitude? I have no other place to go but out into natures luke warm embrace." He headed towards the back door.<br/><br/>"Why do you speak to me when no one else has taken the time to bother?" He said. It might come off cold but in his own way it was a voicing of curiousity. Even if his lifeless hollow ways made it seem icy and angry.