2DREZQ

Looking back at this time in my life, I can't believe I didn't scream for help sooner. Was it pride? Ignorance? I don't know for sure. I suspect that the depression took hold so subtly that by the time this came out, I was to far gone to think rationally enough to realize I needed help.
Thank God somebody did, and intervened.

The guilt never ends. It overshadows everything. It steals the peace from every quiet moment, and dulls the effects of any momentary joy that might shine through the cracks.

I want to run away, but that bitch, Obligation, won't let me. I have to sit here and take it. No escape. Like a heat shield on an endless rentry; the heat never goes away. soon there will be a burn through, and everything inside will be smoke and ashes.

What's the big deal about dying? I've got nothing to fear, and this whole situation should finish me off before long. I'm not quite sure why, but it seems ironic to be dying inside while perfectly healthy.

Dreams that have died rise from their graves
and stalk the quiet nights when sleep will not come.
They talk among themselves in the darkness,
just loud enough so a man can hear every word.
The little beast, Regret, takes notes and smiles.
He shakes his head and casts a smug glance backward.
"To Late", he whispers softly,
as his quill scratches across the parchment.