rien. I’m in a desperate need of attention. I’ve never felt this alone in my life. My heart feels empty but yet, it is full of happy memories and people who love me. People I had changed their lives for the bittersweet best. I reminiscence the choices I’ve made in the past and regret every single one of them, especially the one that led me to this mental hell. I’m burning slowly and the scream that represents my pain is deafening as demons feed on my mind and my thoughts steps back and watch. Then I ask myself: “Why am I so powerless? Why am I so hard on myself?” Then I started weeping but everyone is deaf and a guilty conscience tells me that I wouldn’t want to horrify the happy wonderland that their minds project. I’m afraid of what I’m able to do to myself. Afraid to unveil what the next page might imply; self-destruction.