With every passing moment I increasingly realize just how full and yet empty my days have become; in waking life it seems there is no end to my torment, only temporary escape, and in sleep I am frequently gripped with nightmares and bad dreams. Even when I delve into the depths of my passions, some part of me dwells still in my frustrations. My passions bring me little satisfaction anymore; they merely help mask my pain. I find it difficult now to focus as I become more and more spent. I grow hollow. Nonetheless, I muster up some cheery visage to ablate the worry of those around me and to dull the torrent inside me, crashing like waves on shore, eroding me away.

Every success and every failure loses its meaning as I grow more and more despondent. I neglect my care, I neglect my future, I neglect others. I harm others. I lament. They ask me what is wrong. I explain. They sympathize. They do not understand.

Many have gone through a similar agony, yet I am so very alone.

Some I ask for help. Some try to help. I cannot be helped. Though I rest always on the verge of crumbling, I must be resilient. Others can be helped. I seek to help them. As I increasingly lose myself to the abyss, I too begin to lose my empathy. Despite this, I press forth, console their woes, and remind them of their worth. I can only pray that it helps.

It's been so long, and yet my time feels so short.

When there is work to be done, regardless of whether I do it, I suffer insomnia. When I lie in anticipation of work I will be given, I suffer hypersomnia. Regardless of whether I sleep little or sleep lots, my eye bags have become a permanent fixture, their intensity waxing and waning like the phases of the moon.

I eat just as I sleep: irregularly. I cannot force either; I can only writhe about until I am granted a brief respite. Melatonin does little to convince my mind. The quality of my feed is poor. The quality of my sleep is no different. It is no wonder then that my various works are too of poor quality.

I hide away in my isolation. My body holds me captive. I am my body. My room holds us together prisoners. I worry my family forgets my face. They miss me. They care for me. They too do not understand. Their love oft leaves me maimed. They have the best of intentions. I don't want to hurt them. I have not been with them for a long time. My honesty goes unrewarded, so even among them I play a facade. I don't want them to worry. They don't know my pain.

I've failed them. My siblings will grow up remembering me only for my failures, because I present nothing else. I lack the strength to support myself. I lack the strength to support them.

I am lonely always. I push people away. It rends my soul to care for them. In my momentary infatuations, I inflict them with burden anew. I can't commit to myself. I can't commit to them. Every time I hurt them, part of me dies. I torture myself until I grow into a better person for their and my sake. The regrets never end.

I see no light at the end of the tunnel; I am only told it's there. I cannot escape my mind. I hope I am not stumbling about in darkness forever. I yearn to see the light.

My limits are pushed further and further everyday. My labors bear no fruit. Like an elastic band pulled thin, it's only so long until I snap. My control weakens.

I don't know what will happen. I'm sure it'll be something I won't be quick to forget.

I've had time aplenty to experiment. My progress has been hindered by the ever-increasing stresses I am subjected to. Even in the summer, my troubles don't end. I grow paralyzed, unable to act on my ambitions. I will soon be a husk. I need time in abundance to heal. There is no time.

Some wounds don't mend. My scars echo the same pain from so long ago. If my wounds don't soon close, my spirit will bleed from me.

I could keep listing my pains, but I'm so very tired of it all. I hope while I can. I wish to be well. My passions have yet to be extinguished.

I refuse to allow my flames to be smothered. If it is what life demands, I will burn ever hotter. I will expend myself, body and mind. There is no taking a step back, so I will take a step forward.

I can only hope a gentle breeze fans my embers so I may set my anguish ablaze.

I grow weary. The length of my blinks increases. I will quell my torrent. I am star stuff. Farewell.