Mornings are the worst. From the moment my alarm clock goes off until the moment I walk out the door I am nothing but a vessel of vitriol, cursing myself and the world at every turn.

The best point of the day is late afternoon, when I finally leave work. As I go home, I make plans to cook a delicious healthy dinner, to finish unfinished projects, to better my life. But when I step through the door, exhaustion and apathy kicks in. I allow myself a short rest and before I know it dinner time has long passed. I survive on snacks and precooked food.

Nights are the second worst. I lie in bed and sigh, wishing I could hold her. Despite total exhaustion, my body forces itself awake as long as possible, knowing that the longer I stay up, the longer I can avoid the dreaded morning. Yet every waking moment only serves to worsen the painful feeling of sleeping alone.

Thus has my life been continuing for the past month. I know that I am the only one with the power to change it. Yet I am weak, and still harbor the secret hope that somebody else will save me.