Cold. Deep. Dark. Alone.
Into the ravine of despondency.
Self-fulfilling prophecy?
Probably true.
The truth is relative.
To me, the abyss is the truth.
Lonely and weary.
Worn down by the years.
I seek solace in the grave.
Where there's more darkness.
I fly as I fall.
I fell as I flew.
Yet another existential crisis dies.