I still can’t write. Everything’s a jumble of chaos. The words just don’t come as freely as they once did. Writing for myself has become quite the chore. I can no longer remember what it meant to be alone. Or at least I didn’t. There’s something clawing at the edge of my mind, screaming, gnawing, anything to get out. Anything to escape the encroaching darkness. There are but two options left before me. Neither preferable but then there is little left to be done about that.

I just want to know you’re okay.