Before they’d allowed me to accept that it was finally over, everything came to an end. Sadly, I wish there was time for me to know that this was the end. Instead, I feel lost, as if I’m reading the same passage over and over again attempting numerous times to dissect the ambiguous meaning resonating through the pages yet I fail each and every time. All the materialistic symbols and objects that had once been such a prevalent thing are quickly fading away, and I just see grey. I see a grey future, my life is not clear. It is not sure, I am not sure anymore and my heart is heavy. I cannot fully turn the sadness into something tangible that I can manipulate so I commit it to prayer. I commit it to writing where those who bother to read it perhaps will share in my ordeals. And perhaps, there will be a happy day, this sadness has confined me to a prison where there is nothing to do but to be reminded of what I do not have and what I should have to survive. It is so bad that sometimes I think that it may be worse than death for it is somewhat like our souls are being destroyed within our mortal bodies containing our beating hearts…



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