Hourglass_dyingSo here I sit, yet another day spent alone and empty.  The days are blending; have I been here three years or four?  How long has my life been so pitiful?

A few glimmers of hope, like twinkling stars in the night sky, have been lost to the blackness of a dream that never ends.

Don’t offer me your false tidings; your surrogate ambition; the projected idea that I owe this world, that I owe you something more than existence.  I am not here to be your carved marble idol.  I am here to be.  And I will live and leave on my terms.

If there were a presence, a warmth beside me in this cold room, I would cherish it for the sympathy it offers, but its efforts would be wasted.