Tunnel vision is at it's worst when paired with depression. Suddenly everything is dull, death is the answer, and you think you're so good at hiding it.

Handfuls of pills down your throat and into your stomach. It's surreal, with 0 regret. You leave your bedroom before they kick in, and your father greets you.

"Hey. Watcha doin' up so late?" Jeff asks, setting down his cup of water.