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In the everglades, I feel the nature's breeze, my heart aching to know the truth, your heart not knowing what the truth is. It's frightening this when you think about it. Really. No matter the circumstances, I will always think of you when I feel the breeze flowing through my hair. As I take my time going through my feelings as if they are fragile jars filled. I look through the hot jars and the cold jars. My heart stops when I find the last jar. So one with your heart. Not literally, of course. It's just a memory. Just a fake memory. You never really liked me, did you? It was all just a mask to hide who you truly are. The person I fell in love with, the one I found in the everglades, was just a figment of my imagination. A tool. My heart has stopped for a millennium forever, eyes locked at the jar. The jar with your heart. I wanted it so badly that I made myself a jar with my heart and pretended it was yours. My, my, it's so cold. The once vibrant field I fell in love with is now grey, without emotion, without the breezes. My heart ached and ached to find out why, oh why. Why has it stopped and why had the breeze suddenly stopped? Was it because I was, because I enjoyed it too much? Please, honey, let me feel that breeze one more, even if you don't mean it.