Dead

I feel myself shutting down. Piece by piece, dying inside. Numbness in my extremities, working it's way to the center. The load is even too much for myself. I fight the feelings of wanting to push everyone away. Wanting to be alone. Can't standing to be lonely. I want it quiet. I want it still. I want it dark. I don't want anyone to witness this. Yet I write. I write in hopes that it will save me from sliding too far down. Down into the hole that I long to crawl into. To disappear.

I don't have answers, so don't bother asking the questions.