I sit alone in my room, releasing my thoughts through my pencil. Stained with pain the words bleed on to the paper. Wounding it with emotion as it has wounded me.
Nothing ever heals these wounds. Permanent and scathing to remind me of the the pain relentlessly. The self inflicted torture of every memory feeds the black hole that is my depression. Never ending and oblivious to any and everything else.
In the Dark Tunnel I've made for myself lies a light. So luminous and enticing, it has become almost and obssession of mine. The more I want it the farther it is from my grasp.
Spending my whole life wanting and only getting farther away...
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