The Empty I Feel Inside

Prolouge

Every morning, Virgil woke up.  Every meal, he ate. Every night, he slept.

But in the morning he forced himself out of bed. Because his brain fought and fought for him to keep laying down. For him to stare at the wall and feel nothing at all. For him to never leave.

And every bit of ashen tasting food he swallowed stirred a storm in his stomach. Each speck of the food he ate burned through him and created a constant pain.

And every night, he slept for a lone hour, keeping himself awake until he involuntarily fell asleep because it was the only way to keep the nightmares at bay.

And every second in between, he was trying so hard to keep himself from ending his miserable existence.

So, as you can see, Virgil's life was less than satisfactory.

And his last task, the last bit of will that kept him doing it, was slowly deteriorating into nothing but a speck of forgotten dust.