Leave me to the wolves, for they must surely be much than this wretched world. Swiftly they would devour me. Unlike the days I must remain here. Each passing day has become a mental struggle. Depression, anxiety and self loathing have become the norm and attribute to my abysmal existence. Try as I might, I have found no lasting remedy for the torment I put myself through. Though I pray for relief, no solace is granted within me. If I were to taste the sweet release of death, this very day, few would miss my presence. As fast pace as the world is these days, those few would swiftly move on with barely a memory of me. I feel the longer I am left to writhe within myself, the closer death does creep. Oh death, that which does evade me, deliver me from my self loathing. Release the hold that this life doth me with. Hold me within thy grasp, until my soul is delivered.
Heavy is the head that wears a crown of sorrow. Heartfelt are the words of his wisdom. Forgotten are the days of his existence.
-JT-