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i've lost the ability to even be upset with myself for degenerating i've lost the will to fight, and can't even recognize the path back home. i'm lost for good. i'm sorry for never becoming something worth becoming.
he visits me sometimes, and has nothing to say. he just silently cries in my arms as i fail to speak. mourning together is the last trace of vitality i experience before lifelessly sulking home. he becomes more faint, and i know there will soon be nothing left of him. i'm sorry for killing you.