no sweetheart in the dark to call my own

A sleep like a coma at the scene of my self-destruction.

Here is my deepest secret and darkest fear: my life is meaningless.
I do nothing.
Always looking for tomorrow, my present sits discarded in a corner; dangerously gathering dust until its imminent explosion when I regret all of my yesterdays.

I admire their dedication and wish so hard I could imitate it.
My head and body pound with a thousand words. Emotion clogs my arteries and I forget to breathe.