I wake up every morning feeling like crying, but I cannot cry. I go to sleep every night knowing that I’ll have that feeling for another day. I like sleep so much because it divides today from yesterday and today from tomorrow. Most of all, I love it because it’s a temporary relief from reality.

From sleep, I am brought to times that made me happy. Those are the times that are lost and unrecoverable, and it is in my dreams to where it can only be relived. I could remember so little of those times as overwhelmingly every other memory is tarnished or scarred and are unbearable. My dreams, I could escape to the good times. I tend to imagine what might’ve been, what could’ve been, and what would’ve been just because such experiences never return.

My curse is that I live in my dreams, but I am dead in my reality. I am dead inside, but it is my dreams that are the ghosts of what I would’ve wanted, but never had or kept.

I close my eyes to find my dreams. I open my eyes to live in the nightmare of my reality.

Bring back the days so I could try again. Return to me all that I have lost so I could find myself again. Give to me the life, as vital as the air I breathe, so I could finally live.

I love sleep so much because then I do not feel the urge to cry when my world has already fallen into ruins and ashes.

My life is the same old torture everyday, everyday. I do appreciate all the wonderful things and all the precious little things in my life. Oh, but I am tired of everything else that constantly tears me apart.

For I have fought, for I have died, for I have lost everything inside. I am alone. I am abandoned. I am broken. I am tarnished. Life’s agonizing and miserable treacheries torture me. I am deprived from glories, pleasures, and happiness of life. I am condemned to an eternity of darkest nights and terrifying nightmares.