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?