It's the bleakness of everything around me that wears me down gradually. It is a corrosion of the soul, a grinding down until every nerve is raw, every bit of skin is bleeding and weeping pus. There is no stone unturned, no place where quiet acceptance gives me hope.
I struggle and I struggle, just to keep my head above water, and I wonder why? I look with longing at the things I cannot have, and I wonder... why? I look at things I am not meant to have, and I yearn more and more for it. It is a hopeless wanting. It is a needless yearning. It carves out a big empty space where dreams crawl to die.
If you have nothing to say to me, what do I tell myself?