Nearing the final page, but I know I don’t want it to be the end of my days. Why can’t I find it in me to breathe again? Maybe I’m trapped in a cycle of too much torment. If only I could break free and somehow all of this could lie dormant. But my existence is a hoax, and I’m in the middle of the crossfire. It makes me wonder how long these people have wanted my time to expire. So while I try to untangle the mess in my mind, I’ll try to make the best of this minuscule amount of time. Maybe in the meantime I can appreciate the sunshine. But something tells me I’ll continue to suffer until I reach my intolerable demise.