In case you were wondering, it's gotten so much worse.
Like there is the cherry of a cigarette being pressed ever so slowly, and ever so constantly into the space between my rib cage.
The anger slices deeper, and my will and hope are dead.
I have nothing left.
If I ever said this before, I lied.
There is nothing for me in this existence anymore. I want nothingness, I need oblivion.
A conclusion.

--Andria.