Not even here

My silence swallows me. The sterile glow of the screen does little to illuminate my inner turmoil. My feelings churn in my chest and I do my best to swallow them.

Isolation rules the moment. Inadequacy sings its siren song, and I am drawn inexorably to it. Insecurity sits like a craggy rock, peaking just above the waves of deep-seated shame. Self-loathing cracks in the night, signaling its arrival as the light of dissatisfaction splits the sky. Ever onward, I sail. Eternal sleep seems a blessed mercy, one that would deliver me from the agony of life. And yet, I hold fast. Longing for deliverance while prolonging my suffering.

__________

I don't remember writing this, but I like it. So, I'm publishing it.