You are not a unique and delicate snowflake.

You are the same decaying matter as everyone else.

I’m standing with one leg on either side of a trench, unsure of how deep it is or if I’m going to fall.  I can feel my weak limbs shivering underneath me, the weight piled on my shoulders far too much for me to support, and it just feels like it’s getting heavier.  The ground feels like it’s moving farther and farther apart, like an earthquake without the violent motions of the earth.  No, the only thing shaking is me, ready to break, give in and die under all of the pressure that has been piled upon me.

I don't understand how I got here.  I mean, I know I’m not perfect.  I tried to give everything I could, even though no human being on earth is completely selfless.  Was I really that horrible to deserve this fate?

---

My mentality creeps to the boarder of destruction, oozing with thoughts and sentiments.  I cringe, curled up on my bed, and pull my pillow over my face.  I just don’t understand.  I know how everything came to pass, I’m not stupid.  I just can’t figure out any logic or reasons.

It was a vicious strike, a harsh blow to the spirit.  It’s a crippling feeling, and I feel like it’s impossible to breathe.  I don’t want to move, I can’t move.  I feel so overwhelmed.  There’s too much to think about, too much crushing my mind and heart with unwanted and unneeded worries and thoughts.

I’m caught in the eye of the storm.  There’s no foul weather here at the moment, but it’s liable to come back at any moment.  It’s the calm before the storm, the silence before the battle, the last meal before execution.  It’s painful, it’s quiet, it’s suspenseful, and it’s driving me insane.

---

I can feel my left leg beginning to shake violently.  Tremors run through it like a volcanic explosion shaking the ground.  I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to stay like this.  My back hurts so badly.  The debris piled on top of it only feels like it gets heavier with every passing minute.  My chest burns like a wildfire with every breath I take.  My stomach churns, the nausea bubbles inside me like a hurricane stirring up a tsunami.

Everything around me feels so familiar, even though every inch of ground is foreign to my feet and eyes.  It’s a barren wasteland chaotic weather.  Along with my confusion as to why I am here, comes the scorching heat of one-thousand hot, white suns and the coldest, winter storm one could only find in the highest points in the north, and in the distance is a huge wall of dust impossible to see through or in, making its way towards me.  All of it just makes it that much harder to carry the weight that I have been burdened with.

---

With my ear pressed to my bed, I can hear beating through the mattress.  I cringe every time I hear it.  It’s so loud.  It’s so annoying.  It’s such a burden, and all it does is hurt.  It aches.  I long to do nothing more than claw it out.  It might hurt, but at least that pain is only temporary.

There’s little to nothing left of what I once called humanity.  It’s been torn away by wolves foaming black.  The beast inside has been broken, its legs crippled and jaw snapped with no will left to carry on.  It lies still, growling low, frothy blood leaking from it mouth, nose, eyes and chest.  With no lasting strength left to carry its body, it remains motionless, howling a forlorn song to the darkened sky, staring at infinite white with sightless eyes.

---

My ankles pop.  The pressure’s becoming too much.  I can’t breathe, my lungs too strained to allow anything in or out.  My body shivers, quaking with jaded intensity.  My sight has darkened, black with the pain of one-hundred tortured, screaming souls, begging to be set free by their demonic captor.

There’s nothing left for me here.  I have been chained here with one purpose left for me: demise.  My body’s breaking, my heart’s fading, and my spirit’s failing.  There’s nothing left here, there’s nothing left in me.

I once thought myself as a guardian angel, sent down to earth from heaven to protect the hurt, the lost and the cold.  I believed that my purpose was to guide people through their dark times.  But now I see otherwise.  I can see that I am not unique or special.  I am not different, or fantastic.  I am the same, disgusting material as every other human being placed on the earth with no real purpose in life beyond existing and desperately clawing their way to the top to try and gain everlasting life through memory and fame.

Is there really any such thing as an angel?  If there is, then why don’t I deserve one now.  I’ve done nothing wrong.  I tried so hard to help.  Even if I did make a mistake somewhere down the path I had chosen, wasn’t my intention to do nothing but help and heal enough?

---

Salt and heat spill down my face, staining and burning everything in its path before dripping off the cliffs of my nose and chin.  It soaks the wrinkled fabric beneath me, leaving a cold spot that touches my cheek as I roll over, cooling the once burning flesh.  Everything is blurry, and I cough hard as breath fills and exits the organs the have helped provide me life for so long.  I hold my breath, trying to still myself and stop the shuddering convulsions that course through my body with every aching movement.

With a burning gasp, my lungs refill with air and my chords slam violently together, forcing a choke out of my mouth.  It’s too painful.  I can’t go on like this.

---

It’s impossible.  It’s hopeless.  It’s over.  There’s no way I can do this anymore.  I’m being forced to bend over farther and farther to support this weight.  My back feels like it’s about to snap in half.  I can’t do it.  I just can’t do it.

I feel my legs tremble one last time, and my knees buckle under the burden upon my back.  Sweat rolls down my face.  I swear, I didn’t do anything wrong, and if I did and don’t know what it is, I didn’t do it on purpose.  Stop torturing me.  Please.  I’m sorry.

My foot slips.  I wonder how deep this is chasm is.  The rubble that once stacked high upon my shoulders, the weight of the world, topples into the gorge with me.  I wonder how dark it’ll be before I hit the bottom.  I can see the sun narrowing into a slit and soon vanishing from sight altogether.  I wonder if I’ll ever see the light again.  I feel so cold, so alone.  Does anyone know I was here?  I wonder if I’ll ever be saved.