This book is the result of a long overdue nervous breakdown. A past locked away and a present that behaves like a skeleton key. Time has brought me to this point and survival has written this book. Like an explosion of fear and regret I sat down for one hundred days and wrote one page for each day till I felt some sort of release. Once I had reached that point I turned to take a last look and there was a book looking back. Putting my past to rest I have realized this is the last time I visit its grave and these pages are the flowers I bring to it.