At night I dream of visions portraying what my life could be. Distraught by the sickness of what I see, these sights are killing me. Regression taking over, losing everything that I once held. Lost endeavor, lost purpose. Gaining only the life these visions give. I am force to ask myself where am I going? Where will I end up? Will I ever find ease in my conscious mind? Are these real? Or are they just figments of my imagination? Will these visions end? Or do they tell of the life I will posses? I will rise above these hauntings, overcome these thoughts in my head. One day the visions will be nothing, and I'll be nothing of what I once dreamt. When I speak off the top of my head, my words shall no longer be twisted by the sights. By the burden placed on my weakened mind. Erase these thoughts. These visions will soon be gone. I will no longer have to worry, have to have to fear, have to wonder what beholds for me.
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