It takes so little these days to knock me over into the abyss. I sleep more than ever, yet I’m tired all the time. A feeling of hopelessness is omnipresent. On the good days, I can fake my way through, even to myself. On the bad, I lose it completely.

I despair for the future that I have left my children and the heartless, broken world they are inheriting. I try to fight on without hope, but that fight is so hard and so endless. I’m tired of living on this planet, among these broken people, of which I am one.

And I see no end to it. No hope on the horizon. Only day and burning desert left, radiation everywhere. This endless, timeless existence of remaining at home day upon day. Time has no meaning. It’s the work of Sisyphus I do each day.

I won’t give up, but it’s not going to be up to me at some point. I’m simply going to break, snap in two, collapse all at once. And that will be the end of it.

I will tell you that I’m all right when you ask, but who among us is truly all right? All rightness is gone, all kindness, all mercy. What else can I say to you? Your struggle is just as great as mine, and likely more so.

So from time to time, I will be weak and I’ll be angry at nothing for no reason and I’ll be on the verge of breaking. As I expect that you are. And then I’ll march forward again, one step at a time, until I eventually fall.