• There is a disease fighting inside of me, begging to be destroyed, but there is no remedy, no means of destruction. Something once so magnificent now becomes the thorn in my side. It is consuming me, little by little. Its appetite for suffering will never be satisfied, and its thirst for sadness will never be quenched. I cannot escape its grasp.


    I can keep it from harming me, but for how long, nobody knows. It is always alert, waiting for me to drop my guard for just a moment. Then, it pounces, thrashing at me with all its strength, never relenting, never showing mercy. I have not the strength to recover.


    It cannot kill me, for it is not in its nature to destroy, only to torment. When I have reached the bottom, begging for an end to the madness, an unseen hand picks up my shield and keeps the attacking villain away. It is then that I rest, for the unseen hand is there, though it does not linger on my behalf for long.


    I take up my protection for another stand against the beast, both of us filled with a stronger resolve, because for a time, we were both beaten. The beast is furious, and burns with a new anger. I am determined to avoid another collapse, for the unseen hand may not come for me again.


    I cannot sleep, for the living nightmare before me has greater power in my dreams. He is in my mind, a part of me that cannot be forever avoided. With every dream comes a new lack of sensation in my body. There is no more taste, nor is there sight. I gladly sacrificed them to keep fighting, for the fate which lies on the other side of this safeguard is far worse than a senseless existence. I would gladly lose even my sense of touch, so that this demon cannot touch my soul.


    I cannot think, for every thought lessens my grip and weakens my barrier. I think only of the pain I have felt, and conceive of the pain that is yet to come, praying for an escape. There is no comfort to be found in myself. Yet for weeks, months even, I have been alone in this combat for sanity. My thoughts are all I have, yet they will be my bane.


    My only friend, the unseen hand, does not make itself know. It sits in waiting, never attacking, only offering salvation for the fray to continue. I cannot see it as friend or foe, though my heart tells me it does not wish me harm. What is it, that it would protect me from myself? I have done nothing for it, yet it remains nearby, never leaving my presence for long. More thoughts, more pain, enough of this.


    What shall I do? My defense is growing feeble, my awareness daunted by many sleepless hours. What is my choice? Where is my escape? Without my sight, I can feel the eyes peering through my blockade, glowing bright and hot, embers that cannot be cooled by mere water. Why is it here for me? What is this fiend, that it should be ever-threatening?


    I remember that it was once so kind to me, allowing me to relax in the warmth it once provided. It was a living paradise, allowing only the best to reach me. There was no pain, and no fear of pain, for I did not yet know what true pain was. There was complete euphoria, for nothing existed outside its gentle grasp, yet I knew it not.


    Then it turned, swiftly and without warning. The mild warmth turned to an insufferable heat that burned through me. My muscles grew taut and fragile, strength leaving me with every moment. The brute emerged, ruthless and unforgiving, pummeling me for what seemed like days. It was my own caring, corrupted into pure darkness. The unseen hand was my rescuer, providing me with a way to hold back my adversary.


    What prompted such a complete reversal? In retrospection, I see an agitation, other entities living in the comforts provided by the wonderful creature that I now oppose. I cannot identify these individuals, though they are in close proximity. I know their scent. They smell lightly of the finest fragrances, surrounded by all things material. They are filled with true beauty, but they know it not. They have taken their comfort for granted, rejecting it when it is all around them, and thus, the monster has rejected us all.


    Yet where are they now? I do not see them struggling as I have struggled. I have not seen them endure the pain that I have endured. Have they gotten away unscathed? Perhaps it is I that should have rejected my paradise, protecting myself from this malevolent end. No, I am doomed to face this wrath alone, bearing it fully instead the others.


    Yet I ask myself, am I less deserving than they? For they did not accept things as they were, believing that a paradise so wonderful could not exist. And they were right, for no such utopia could exist without pure unadulterated love. Such a thing is more rare than a rainbow rising over the desert.


    I have been praying for some release from this skirmish, yet have found none. There is no way out, and no relief. My former companions were given such a chance, yet my confrontation with this once gentle being lasts eternal. Shall I never find my path to freedom and jubilation? It is there, yet I cannot find it. Where do I turn?


    Here I shall wait, even until death, for my getaway, though it may never come. Perhaps death is the only escape. I must remain here, ever battling for my psyche, for the terror that I confront wishes to devour my spirit. My life is now completely consumed by it. No memory remains of the world I once lived in, outside of that false utopia.


    Here the cycle will continue. There is no escape from it, for how does one escape what they have become? I have been doomed to an existence that no man should bear forever. Perhaps it would be better if I just let this abomination overwhelm me? No, for until the day my body hasn't an ounce of strength left, I will stay. The vicious cycle continues. Failure and release, catastrophe and restoration...