Monday, 3:48 am… still awake. I’m tired yet unable to imagine sleeping. The cozy comfort that encircles people while they dream escapes me. It seems so far and foreign. I live amongst the ghosts of the dead. While it is dark, I am around. Not alive. Not awake. Just here. As the sun rises I close the curtains and shut out the light. This way, I am protected from reality. I don’t have to face what haunts me. Normalcy, the world of the living. People. Being the person I once was. Because I can’t be. I’ve been changed forever, and I can’t cope with it. If I were able to become him again, would I want to? No. he was unwise to the labrynth of what is. I know so much now that I cannot give up. Where I will go and what I will do, I don’t know, but that doesn’t matter. I know where I have been and what I have experienced. That alone is worth the sacrifice of who I was. Death is not the most tragic loss in life. The most tragic loss is what dies inside you while you are still alive. This is why I can’t sleep, why I daydream of carefree times and what seemed like forever. I mourn the death of a great part of myself- you.