HarsH ReaLiTy

And will you drift off to die silently at sea? Leaving little more than a whisper to be remembered by?

Not I. No not me.

I wake to the same task at hand. I stack words and phrases redundantly in hopes of fortifying myself against the curse of despair. Like a wolf I see her prowling outside waiting for a moment of weakness.

My fingers type in their sleep. With the mind separated from mundane weaknesses I feel a release. Or at least I dream I do. My dreams are improbable realities that attempt to pull me down. I flee from them by opening my eyes. This action shatters internal images and pushes me into my motions for the day.

I make these motions with little to no emotion. The lack is not missed by vacant eyes that barely recognize the type of cereal I shovel into my mouth. My…

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