Is this what has become of me? A constant reminder of my own fears? You are a product of your environment, it shapes you--molds you of the past and present. The mold is cracked, smoldering. Weak and crumbling--used and barren.

I feel desolate, dark....crestfallen. Having only the faintest flutter of a heartbeat. Shallow breathing, streaks glisten on my face. Strapped bare in the confines of my own mind. A slew of old memories always unfolding, a constant reminder of the ever lingering silence of my present loneliness.

I feel I'm searching for a fruitless nectar. That which I wish to obtain, again, is far from reach--forever from reach. I once thought it was unfathomable to fully grasp the loss, but I feel it's full weight now. Nights like this, when thoughts flood; can't help but aware myself that things are not what they once were and never will be.

I'd give anything to quell this feeling...