4am

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It's 4am and I'm wide awake, fantasizing about dying with equal parts excitement and fear. I'm weary, which is normal all things considered, but tonight I feel as though I'm carrying centuries upon my shoulders. I want to shrug it all off and leave it crumpled like an old worn out coat on the floor so I may emerge anew.. lighter and unburdened.

But to be reborn I must slay the beast that holds me captive, with the same hardened heart that I keep for punishing my past mistakes. No emotion or mercy as I cut the ties that bind. No fear as resistance rises up to meet me. This battle has been faught a hundred times, and a hundred times has ended in stalemate.

For there is no victory, or escape. No dark slumber nor ray of hope. Just the gloomy mist of anticlimactic nothingness. Pathetic and weak. The absence of anything. Hope or fear. Torment or escape. And as the emptiness grows it slowly starts devouring me from within.
 
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