Quiet whispers at night time. Whispers of my troubled mind. It has grown quieter now, no more screaming, just secrets lurking behind locked doors, dusty memories of better days, or at least more memorable days. These times are dull, the medication just numbs it all, all the intensity is still there, unfulfilled potential, lazily watching in silence as the drugs take over, drag with them all my sensitivities, all the uniqueness, all the force, all the rage, the power, the will. I sit in the room, begging for help, for answers, for solutions, all they give me is tired replies of impossible hopes.
I am going to sleep now, my dreams the drugs cannot control. We shall see where the madness takes me...
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