Your time is going by. And I can't help but wonder if you're just trying to cram it all in.
Do you enjoy this? I can't help but wonder what you gain from degrading me.
What is the trade? For my agony, for my loss, what is won? There must be a profit.
I become less.
I am so tired. My deepest urge is just to sleep, drift.
Even the nightmares would be bliss, if only for the familiar faces.
