Alone, in my dark room. Isolated from life, cut off from everything and everyone. I lose my body, my form, and to a certain extent, my mind. My brain becomes nothing more than an amorphous mass, a vessel for thoughts, thoughts that here become noise, incomprehensible noise. I rot; it is this solitude that rots me. It is I who rots myself, sabotaging myself, isolating myself simply because I want to, even though I don't want to. The only concrete form is her, the one I look at, and she obsesses me with her dark presence that floods my life with love as well as hate. Two very contradictory forces. Just like me.

I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know where to run. The path looks dark wherever I run, the walls are closing in on me more and more, it's cold, I feel life slipping away, I'm so trapped, the walls are suffocating me, I can't, I simply can't get out of here, I'm surrounded by thorns, they pierce me, they imprison me, they won't let me breathe, they won't let me move. The shapes become abstract, I can't understand myself, I feel closer and closer to tasting death. No, I don't want to, I don't want to leave her behind, but it feels more and more difficult to hold on, I can't, I simply can't, it hurts to stay here, it hurts so much, I'm agonizing within these four walls. I can't, I can't breathe, I need to breathe, I need to feel, I need to be okay, it's because of her, it's because of her. Let me out, I beg you, let me out, let me out of here, hear my cries, hear how desperate I am. Take what you want, take my flesh, sink your teeth into it, but let me go, let me be free. I keep going around in circles, I'm slowly ceasing to tremble, writing calmed me but I felt so much despair, I still feel so trapped here, I want to cry, I want to cry but I can't, my eyes are dry, I've cried so much inside that nothing remains on the outside. I apologize to everyone, I really am trying, I try to be better but I can't, nothing motivates me, nothing, I still feel so dead, I just want to die. I haven't felt like this in a long time. I'm so desperate. I need to calm down. I need to stop thinking because it's my own mind that's killing me, eating me from the inside out. I feel like there's nothing left of me. I'm a puppet of emotions, pretending to try and live my life as normally as possible. Among all those people who irritate me, I want to kill them all. It would be so easy at night, just to get rid of everything I don't want in my life. I'm thinking things I don't want to think, things I would never do. My mind is so disgusting. I'm so disgusting I want to cry. I hate myself so much. This body fills me with such revulsion and disgust. Please, take it from me. Medicate it, break it, drug it—anything to make it feel alien to me, just like it does now. Someone, please kill me. Please take my life. I don't want it to be my fault later. I want you to say you killed me, not that I killed myself, and maybe then you won't feel so bad. I'm sorry for being like this, I really didn't choose it, it's his fault, it's all his fault. He ruined me, he made me the amorphous mass I am. Please forgive me for not understanding myself, forgive me for hurting you, I really didn't mean to. I really don't want to hurt anyone else with my rotten mind, I hate it so much. I don't know if it would hurt you more if I stayed alive or if I died once and for all. I'm sorry.

I've woken up once more, and I'm already tired. I feel overwhelmed by this weight that settles on my body the moment I open my eyes: my own consciousness. I just want to go back to sleep, to close my eyes again and peacefully return to the state of unconsciousness where I find solace for a limited time, before once more bearing the weight of life when I wake up. Sometimes, I dream of being a flower; of being perfect in something so simple, free from what torments me in this body. Of having brief conversations with the wind that caresses me before it departs. It would be such a simple life, so solitary, but happy, after all.

How could I tell her? How would Mom manage if I did? It's such a recurring thought that I'm afraid I'll ever have the courage to do it, to let my mind consume me and my body unconsciously rise up and take my self-destruction to the extreme of silencing myself forever. Maybe, perhaps, the best way to silence myself is that: to open my skin until my body can't take it anymore and I have to be hospitalized. My days would be happy, lying on a hospital bed, alone, medicated, unconscious, while everyone who once loved me suddenly wonders, "Why? What led him to this? Where did the innocent, smiling child go, the one who made everyone laugh wherever he went?" I ask myself the same thing. I don't know where he is. I'm still looking for him, deep inside my soul. I want to bring back that joyful child I once was. "If Icarus could go back, he would probably regret flying on his own, that is, abandoning his innocence." I regret it too. I miss innocence, I miss such a simple life, limited only to what my eyes saw. Now I die while standing, I die of love, I die of sorrow, I die of envy, and with every passing second I feel myself crumbling and no one notices. The most ironic thing? I'm not sure I want help. Something in me begs to be left to my fate and slowly drown in my own blood, while another part of me demands that I get up, demands that I at least try, anything, just for her. Only for her would I get up, only for her do I reject the idea of death every time I feel it whisper in my ear. It is only for her that I live, and when she's not here, my chest feels empty. Forgive me, Mom.

I feel tears welling up in my eyes, but they don't dare to fall. They aren't brave enough. They're afraid. Afraid of being judged.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you, sorry for how little I show it, which contradicts how much I love you. I beg your forgiveness, because you are everything to me, and yet I haven't known how to behave. I've slowly lost you, just as I've lost the will to live if I don't have you by my side. The guilt I feel now is so great that I feel its weight pressing down on my shoulders, making it hard to move or breathe. I'm so sorry for being cruel to you because of the suicidal thoughts that now, more than ever, have taken over my mind. Our distance only intensifies them, makes them resonate more. I love you is all I can say, and having you away hurts more than you can imagine. I just want to be able to hold you in my arms again as soon as possible. Your absence burns me like never before; it's killing me.

I've made mistakes, unfortunately more than I'd like to admit. I'm scared, now more than ever, because I feel like my relationship is hanging by a thread, and I'm not willing to lose her for anything. She's the only one who keeps me going, the only one who gives life meaning, and I'm afraid of losing her now, because losing her also means dying while I'm still standing. I know I would become nothing more than a corpse, a lifeless body riddled with wounds. And I don't want that. I love her more than anything in this world, and now, because of the stupidity I constantly demonstrate, I'm losing her.

Let me inhale your nauseating scent once more, let me get high on your body. My flesh needs yours to live. The thought of suicide caresses my conscience so sweetly that resisting it becomes difficult. Let me sink once more into your world, your repulsive world. Let me be a part of it.

I spend my days sleeping, waiting for you to come back I sleep, I sleep... what else can I do?

I've lost her.

My chest feels heavy, I breathe the same air I breathed that June 18th. It feels just as strange, the feeling of novelty returns, but what causes it now? Nothing, there's nothing that causes what I felt that night. Maybe it's just nostalgia lulling me into the illusion that I feel the same, making my mind tire again of remembering her, the laughter, that magical kiss we shared that made me taste the galaxy between her lips before I could say she was my wife. I miss that feeling, I don't feel capable of feeling something like that again. The strangest thing was how suddenly it vanished. Sudden repulsion syndrome. Just for being her, for what she carried from her past and her present.

Relief. I'm freed from a burden I've carried for months, the burden of you still being present in some way wherever I look, but I hope that will soon change. Now you're locked away in a box in some corner of the closet I'll never look at, I won't think about you, I won't remember anything, because every time I do, I just feel nauseous. Relief, relief again, that this is another step for me, one that takes me further and further away from the street where we said goodbye that last time, that last goodbye that never showed any signs of being a goodbye, it was a goodbye like any other, but that won't weigh on me anymore.

I am fragments of something you loved that will never return. In me, you found pieces that, within you, blossomed into nostalgia for someone strange, someone foreign to me. You dug deeper, searching for more, wanting to find more of the person who left you. You went so deep that you found my hatred, my revulsion for you. And we drifted apart, and now I am nothing more than the foundation of something future, in which you will find someone else and make the same mistakes and bury yourself. I hope this time it's forever.

My mind chains me to something that doesn't exist, something that seems weightless but crushes me. I don't know its weight, its presence, or its influence. I felt the overflowing rivers blocking me from its body. But finally, cracks formed in the stones, and darkness fell upon me, and I drowned. And I ended up hanging from rocks, rocks too small to kill me. I shrank, but still not small enough. My feet still touched the ground that screamed my name, demanded my fall, swallowed me whole, called to me, needed me. It didn't need me like you did; it didn't scream or call to me like you did because you did it half-heartedly. You no longer called to me with enough force, so I drove myself away with the thunderous sound of your soft words that no longer ensnared me. Now I was the elusive one, for some reason that will never know me.

Nothing about me works, nothing is as it should be. I haven't learned how to be human, nor do I have any interest in learning how.

I'll see you. Someday I'll see you. And you'll never know I saw you. Nor will I know I saw you. Because you're not you anymore