His eyes were dull and gray.
Rain poured down from the billowy, dark clouds above. The water droplets sting my skin; a liquid knife on my flesh.
I try to do the Lord's work, to love my neighbor as I love myself, but what if I loathe every inch of my being? What if I am my own demons? What if I am already a dead man, but in the body of a living one?
My heart hurts; I did this to myself. My death will only be swift and painless after I had stopped the process. For now, I die every day. I am already dead, but living.
Is this life?
