every morning he wakes up, already dreading the coming day, the sun barely starting to rise he feels the onset of darkness creating the horizon in his mind, scrambling to catch his bearings and prepare himself for another war inside his own mind

he steels himself, awaiting the onslaught of thoughts assaulting his mental barriers, which consist of nothing but a futile attempt to ward off the storm of darkness pressing ever onward crashing into those barriers reducing them to nothing but scattered fragments of strength which alone are nothing more than a faint glimpse of hope

wondering if today will finally be the day, he continues to struggle to resist the temptations the darkness calls him to, calling him to an eternal darkness he can make into his own utopia where the sun never shines, but he has a false control keeping him content

realizing too late, the blade to his wrist already piercing skin and painting a dark version of tic tac toe along his veins, the x marks the spot, the blood pooling out of him as if he were nothing but a faucet stuck on, struggling to control the damage already done he wraps himself up in a panicked attempt to stem the flow already rushing onto the floor

but nothing could be done, the voices in his head nothing but a menacing laughter growing louder as his vision blurs, tears dripping down, as the edges of his vision darken, as suddenly as the darkness crept in, it recedes leaving him with nothing but a hollow skull, vision fading, the silence coursing through him, until he collapses becoming the darkness he was promised.