I used to be able to write.

Sometimes I cry aloud into the night. Smarting from the pain that accompanies loss. I fear myself because everything has always been in excess. I am incapable of going with the flow. I can not love others, because I am in agony within. It hurts and not just sometimes. I have been awake for 72 hours without reprive, stoic conutanance I refuse to show emotion, though my eyes reak of insecurity. I am not myself. I long to move beyond this place, where I see myself as a failure. My current state is not reflective of what i am capable of being, so I better get busy living because I might die tomorrow.