Here you are, in the middle of the day, or shall I say, since the moment you’ve went to bed last night, you had hardly found sleep. You just cannot differentiate between the days anymore because they are all the same.
And as for the moment you’ve woken, you’ve cursed the sun for rising as if it were the reason for your sadness. Was it? Maybe the thought of a “Good-morning” had never existed in your dictionary of words, because everyday you’d wake up even more broken than the night before and if that makes any sense to you, I hope you feel me. Feel me, not sympathize with me. But what would your empathy serve me? Nothing. After all, you cannot save people, you just have to listen to them and tell them that someday, somewhere, everything will be alright and of course, they will not believe you. Because when you are standing in a dark forest, you cannot expect someone to talk to you about the sun when it hasn’t risen, yet. “Yet” is what you try to convince them when as a matter of fact, they had never seen it. At least not clearly bright and shining.