This marks what I view as the lowest point in my life. As I began college under a scholarship, most of my closest friends moved in together under one roof, seemingly bringing my long-time dream of us all living under one roof close to reality. However, I found myself collapsing into an all-out depression at this point in time, as my loneliness peaked, and the Contentness Theory fell out from under me. Though I made many efforts in the early days to pull myself out of the rut, I eventually found myself swallowed up in it. Here I learned that more than any frustration or sadness in life, emptiness is the ultimate agony. Meanwhile, the house of my friends, which one might expect to be an asylum, developed into the local hotspot for drug activities and other unmentionables. The days I visited that house, hoping to save a friend so they'd save me mark my worst memories ever. I recall frequently sleeping through classes, a large amount of staring at walls or reflections in my room. In truth, most of my friends seemed to be going through times just as rough, but it seemed to make them withdraw rather than reach out. Eventually, the closest thing to coping I was able to develop was simply trying to cut myself off from them.