Is it Me? Is it me or did life get harder when I turned eighteen? Did the games we play turn into nightmares? Those doll house turning into true horror houses. Who knew that the fun would end and to survive we would have to bend to uncompromising wind? Though there were childhood horrors they pale against the terror of fighting untold torchbearers. Did our daily bread transform into a rocks too hard to chew and deadly to consume? Is it me or does it seem that finding the sun means fighting the rain so I can see again?