... 259

There is nothing left in my heart-no forgiveness, no sympathy, no gratitude; neither there is hope nor faith. There is nothing that would kindle a spark to disperse the gloom of mundane predictable morbidness and so I stay blind to what may lie beyond the mist hovering over my tired mind. As if I’m at the bottom of a well that runs so deep that no light comes in. 

I've accumulated too much anger; way too much.