Dear Esther

I have begun my descent into the abyss. Though madness may soon consume me, I will forever keep the nature of sanity at bay. Today marks the third dawn. It is a gray and unnatural morning, for I have yet to awaken from my blissful haze. No doubt the clouds have yet to dissipate from mine eyes as they have up yonder, though I feel less of a man and more of a machine with the passing of each rotation of the sun's dreadful gaze.

I am writing this to you to pass the time that we all hold dear. Time of essence and mortality. It is a twinkling sensation of soul and mind, that we can only fathom with numbers and precise calculations. It is an unimaginable presence, overshadowing our lives like the grim reaper himself, cast before us and biding his time. It will come for us all, as we have come to acknowledge through the lives of others. I cannot say how well prepared I will be for the dawning of the final hour but I feel it lingering like an ever-present cold, gnawing at my bones with every minute past.

Do you remember the bright yellow mornings? The feeling of euphoria as each ray of warm light cleansed your body of all malignant thought and emotion? I'm afraid of those mornings now, for the dark is where I've learned to survive. My spirit yearns for the shadow of the day with torment becoming an eventual transformation into the routine machinations of life. Perhaps in this eternity, I will find peace within the pragmatic walls of my hallowed dreams. Hope will become my trophy of goodwill to those who may mistakenly follow my path, and eventually lead them to their own dismal destination. But I, I fear, have finished my marathon of dreams. I am out of breath.

I can no longer fly with the birds of my flock, and so have been cast to the earth, to crawl amongst the worms. To accept my disgrace is to embrace the degeneration of my being, and I have done so willingly. The sweet sound of the rushing wind has become to me, a howling wail. I no longer have any place within the song of earth. It no longer calls my name, within its patterns of breath. I must hum my own tune now, and create a singularity within the confine of this universe. I will become a black hole, swallowing within me every particle of light that dares present itself to me. I will become a spiteful and ever lingering presence, fearing nothing but my own malignant self. This is what I was, what I am, and what I will be.

The future is now set to bear me, a justice without reprisal, for I am become both past and present.