Surrounded by those he loves he works, he strives for their happiness, he strives for the best not for himself but for them. So he works, day in and day out for them, he wakes up early and comes home late just to make sure they’re proud and happy. He doesn’t see them much anymore but he hears of their joy and for that he continues, even though his body grows weary he continues awake but unconscious, productive but broken inside. He won’t stop he cannot fail them but the gears get rusty, and the machine slowly comes to a halt and so he rests. He is happy though, finally gets to see those he works so hard for, he wakes up from a nights rest and walks around, they aren’t the same people, and they don’t know who he is. A once vibrant man is not substituted with a scruffy worn out man, and the once bright family is now replaced with self occupied people. He bids his morning but they nudge him off, he doesn’t know where he is, he isn’t where he used to be. His home is merely an asylum, these aren’t the same people and he was just a passerby in that hostel. They didn’t know him and so he went alone he stepped foot in a hot shower, the water dropped on his shoulders and relieved the anxiety as the water hit the ground. He stepped out, finally relaxed he dried up and cleared the mirror, only to see a stranger, a man he has never seen in his life.