June third, nineteen sixty-eight

Syd wasn't answering any of your calls. You calm home to find him sitting on the floor, sitting crisscross. He looked.. empty.. as if just a shell. His eyes were closed but his mouth was slightly agape. His hand rested on his knees. When you got closer his eyes shot open. His pupils were huge and his wide eyes were dark with flecks of green, fully open. He closed his mouth but didn't smile, nor smirk at you. He just stared, the house was completely silent.

Syd sometimes wore white powder covering his face along with black eyeshadow around his eyes and black mascara and eyeliner along with it. His black hair now longer and wilder than it was a year ago, he completely forgot to brush it or even wash it. He wore old velvet trousers long stained with paint and bleach. His shirt was laying on the sofa. Syd was thinner and he looked like a darker version of the mad hatter. He spoke not one word, his gaze seemed to look through you.

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