The world shuts its eyes tightly and lets out a low moan. It knows it's it pain, but it feels so helpless to stop it. Instead it takes another hit and falls asleep. At least when it dreams it can pretend everything is fine.
But I can't sleep. I lie awake all night. My fevered dreams chill me more than the pains of reality. Once the illusion is dispelled, the drugs are no comfort.
I want to warn others, to rally more to the cause. Maybe we can fix this thing. But I fear no one will listen. And the few that do will not be enough, and they'll be stuck like me. In even more hopeless pain than before.
I can't carry on normal conversations anymore. Everything feels so superficial, with the weight of knowing what's coming. I have this heavy burden on me, to speak out and warn the others, but I know they won't listen. They'll just think I'm crazy. They already do. So I keep quiet. Wretched in my cowardice. I want to tell them so bad, I want to say...
Wake up.
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