I can't think straight. It has been raining all evening, as if to taunt me. My mind has been sapped dry for so long now, so different from the ground outside, soaking up every drop of spring rain that comes its way. I can barely stand composed, much less compose anything, even for the sake of my own sanity. What was the purpose of this journal? If I recall correctly, it was to have been an escape for me. I've not needed to escape from anything for a while, and then the rain came.The whole world is coming to life, while I lay stationary, and that fact is terrifying. I cannot stay anchored to my crutches forever, but how do I move forward when I know I am not strong enough to stand on my own two feet? Can't anyone see me as more than invincible? The whole world doesn't only believe that I can do everything, but actually expects this from me. How do I live up to that? How much longer will I keep this charade up? Maybe I'm overthinking this.

Worn out already, but still so young. Toughen up, Eclair. The show must go on.