It started with a headache that refused to release me.

I can only assume it was a premonition of my sickness which shortly thereafter ensued.

My body seemed to have healed fine overnight. It was a largely unproductive night. Of all the things I had planned to accomplish that night, I had completed a grand total of zero items.

The next couple of days happened in a blur. I seem to be presently unable to separate the days in my head. All I recall are my aching palms and aching heart. It was as if someone had cursed me.

I think, if I were to rewind my speech to mine of over a decade ago, I would describe my now modern state as being sad. No more and no less.

The week was filled with temporary joys. I laughed and dreamed and occasionally felt pleased with how things are now.

The other day, I had a dream where I was living my normal everyday life, except in my dream, it was abnormal. In my dream, I still had No’C, but it was merely in status and he never made an appearance. I felt guilty for being happy now and not deriving my happiness from him.

He had been my happiness for so long, y’see? And I don’t know how else to explain it.

When I woke up, there was the slightest bittersweet tinge of lost love. No’C has been gone for over a year now. In fact, within the next few days, it will have been a year and three months since No’C and I relinquished our intimacy.

But anyhow, I think that slight tinge was mostly overshadowed by my relief that the life I so longed for in the dream was in fact the life I live in current reality. That is the ultimate relief, I think, to achieve your personal ideal of something as grand as your own life itself.

So why am I writing now?

As I said before, I’m sad. It’s to the point where I find myself distracted with how deeply my heart aches. Silly heart, she has no reason to be like this.

I would like a hug. I would like a hand massage to relieve the ache in my palms.

I would like to stop feeling so anxious all the time. I’d like to be happy, of course, but the things that I thought made me happy don’t make me as happy as I hoped.

Is this the long-awaited return of the Shadow? Will I start having nightly breakdowns again? It’s not that I mind. The Shadow is a terrible curse in itself, but I dread more the greyness. At least the Shadow makes me feel human.

Dear reader,
do you know why I write?

Perhaps to your dismay, I don’t write for you. I say time and time again in my entries, “dear reader,” but that is out of gratitude, not devotion.

I write for myself. I write to release myself. I write so that I might escape the Shadow, if only for a while.

I don’t write to entertain. I don’t write to be read, although it is helpful to know that I can be read. I don’t write to be criticized or penalized. I don’t write to be praised and encouraged.

I simply write because sometimes, that’s all I can do. Like right now. I don’t know what else to do but to write.

The other day, someone expressed a light insult in regards to my writing and I found myself more hurt than I thought I would be. A few days later, my other writings were also criticized. I’m not sure why it hurt so much. I think it’s because the Shadow is hungry and she will take anything she can and make a weapon of it.

I’d like to be strong. I’d like to wake up with the confidence that I’ll have a stable day. I don’t want to feel so hurt. It all seems so petty of me and I wish I wasn’t like this.

Sometimes, I’m so displeased with how I’m feeling that I wish I could stop existing.

Won’t you please help me?