It seemed to be a fairly normal day, normal enough at least.
A man stared out his window from the comforts of his once beautiful victorian style home, now run down and decaying, filled with memories he wished he could forget.
The sun never really got the chance to push through the clouds much, and today was no different. It much reminded him of the siblings that would and did inevitably drown out the sibling he was.
These are the last inane thoughts that ran through his head before the events that would be soon to transpire. Events that would drive him to the brink of insanity, to teeter on the edge of the metaphoric cliff before taking a nosedive into the inescapable depths of his mind. And these, would be the last sane things he would remember upon said edge. No tears would he shed for the days looked back upon, nor for the days ahead he would not remember. No, only of the clouds overtaking the sun; much like the static would overtake his mind, leaving nothing but an empty shell behind. A shell that would cause those who passed by to stand and only look over to him and pity crossed through their minds and shown in their eyes, but only for a moment. For the people he was memorable to were long gone by then, leaving him with those everlasting glances of pity. Just within arms reach of help, help that no one would ever give. Only those glances of pity, and they would then walk on about their business, glad they weren't him. Leaving him to just sit there day after day, night after night with a stature and lifeless look one would find on a statue. Making others wonder what hells he must have seen, what terrors he must have gone through, to leave such a mind so blank and so barren.