It hurts so mightily tonight, it feels like my heart is being gorged out. Sleep will rob away the remains of time, to reminisce and grief and breathe my kind of content. And for that, sleep is my greatest enemy, one that does not fear me the way I do it. Every drift into the unconscious wastes more time that could be functioned for telepathic thoughts. Thinking and thoughts, on the other hand, have been my most loyal company. Nostalgia is fueling my recent obsesion for scraps of memories lurking in every inch of this house that now begins to haunt me. I believe this is the first time that I'm existing to regret, about something only time can tell. Above all, this wretched feeling hovers over me like possession. The feint lines between immense love and reluctance blend in together as I clench my unspoken prayers.

A miracle could save me. God, won't you save me?