They come to us all bruised and beaten. I try to put them back together the best that I can. However, at best, all I can do is repair the body. I can't repair the mind. I can see in their eyes the pain that they are going through. In the beginning, I didn't care. I just cared about how to improve their body. As I get older, maybe I'm getting wiser... or I'm just tired. Either way, it's getting harder and harder to ignore their pain. I want to help them but I know that it's a losing battle. In the end of the day, I'll send them back out again and go home, sit in front of my fireplace, sipping my wine, and remember... I didn't start this. Who am I to stop it?