There's a relentless ache that gnaws at my insides, a void that can't be patched with pills or platitudes. I keep marching through this wasteland of desperation, every step heavy with the weight of my silent agony. I don't talk about it, because what's the point? Words can't capture this torment, and sharing it won't lessen the load. So, I push on, not because I believe in some fairy tale ending, but because surrender is not an option. This suffering, it’s my shadow—it clings to me.