I struggle with my present while simultaneously being haunted by my past and taunted by the future I could never have. My world is torn to where it could never be mended. I hate the world that I love, and I love the world that I hate. I would almost surrender my heart to vanquish every emotion that consumes me and torments my very existence.

Of what was benign, of what was pleasure, now begins to burn my soul. I crave and hunger for the essence of life I need. I barely drink drops of what is essential to sustain one's own life. It is the quantities of pain I drink to each day. The drops of pleasure are life's way to taunt me from the things I am forbidden to have, of the very elements my soul starves for.

I am strong because I can endure the hardships even of that not of my making. Yet I am defeated, for it is the struggle within myself that weaken me as I fight among myself. And I stand alone to be tormented for the rest of my being…