Back to the same old me, the very being to splinter. Had I seen it coming I could have stocked up on happy feelings for my emotional winter. That single glimmer of my true north all behind me the irony too much to tackle straight on. I ranted on and on and on, feelings clinging to me expecting release and finding the very bottles they were meant to be stored. Nothing more of me to give, I wept silently. Holding shame, accepting blame, all thought within my brain had managed to shoot from my head. A chain had broken, All hope was dead.  Slugging now through halted gears and slowed micro-thoughts. breaking apart every mistake as if looking for a cure. Nothing prospered, mark the end.