Holy mother of God! Why am I trembling? Something like joy courses through my veins, but the tears are waiting to fall. Will it be like this for the rest of my waking hours, to stand still, lost in a fog of indecision, while happiness is something that happens to other people?

I dare not rail against Fate, against God, against [Mother] Nature. If they exist—for I am no longer sure they exist—what do they care about this insignificant creature, this transient spark of lightning coursing through meat? I am alone, alone, with absolutely no hope to assuage this grief—either I cast myself down into despair, or I grudgingly resign myself to this doom.

I know with grave certainty, surer than I know my own name, that I can’t do anything but ride [it out] and maybe see the sights along the way.

Christ. I have to stay alive…. Then I can meet my doom with arms wide open.

See, I really don’t, I really don’t. I don’t want to die dreaming of rain, gasping for air, knife stabbing my back. Alone, alone, forgetting everything of love. Ah, what is love? I thought I could see the shape of it, that one morning when I let my heart melt again, because I missed it so badly. I didn’t know how to live without it, I still don’t, only I’ve gotten used to it, and I’m not sure I could call this life, exactly.

Even now, the mask is stripped from my folly. How could I have dared? What was I thinking? Every way I spin the dice—snake eyes. Why did I keep throwing, betting away hope until I was cast into the street?

What the hell was I thinking? How did I let my soul curdle like that, shrinking like a slug writhing in a bed of salt. What in God’s name was I thinking? How did I dare hope for salvation? How did I dare hope? What is the use without hope? And yet I cannot dare. I’m dying inside, gasping like a fish thrown up on the barren shore. Without hope, how can I even dare move?

How have I gotten used to this misery, I don’t even know what to call it any more. It’s so familiar I forget about it, and I just stare off into space, forgetting what I’m thinking about.

Did I get struck with lightning? The world is spinning. Am I to count my luck, lapping up the leftovers of others’ joy? I am happy for them. Yes, I am happy, [that they will] never [know] the misery of my existence. We all have our stigmata, our nail wounds and blade wounds, but wounds will heal if you can clean them out. I feel like I’m digging up blood and gore, putrid flesh and pus, it just keeps coming out. Is this all I am? And good [works] [crumble] to ash when my mind touches upon [them], [becoming] hollow and twisted.

I do not wish to hit bottom, I can’t let go, I’m too afraid to fall. I’m stuck on this barren ledge and I can’t even see a likely handhold above me, the only way is down. There’s a deep pit waiting for me, I can hear the demons cackling.

I’m afraid to let go, afraid to pull myself up, Fear has mastered me. I’m a whipped cur. I gag, but I don’t know what else to do. I am so mentally fucked right now, and there’s no solution at all. Nowhere, nowhere. I turn in all directions and there is only silence and darkness.

Nothing. I’m afraid to reach out. It’s just a reaction. I’m being stupid. Please, please, can I come home now? Just to rest for two minutes and at least pretend that someone loves me because she can, and she wants to, not because she is compelled by her terrible fear. I would give a testicle. I would give up feeling in one arm, just to glimpse my future, if it is bright. And if darkness is truly to claim me, then at least let me see my dying day, in truth, and let me see all who would mourn my passing, if there are any.

It’s so silly. The days I’ve frittered away have all of a sudden come crashing down like bricks, and I’m so tired, too tired to even just lie here and weep the rest of my life away. This is the best I can do right now, I can’t do anything more. The best I can do is numb my pain. Oh God! Can you please give me even a single grain of hope? Just enough for one day. Even just one hour where I can see light!