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I wake up every day a ghost in my own life, shadowless and lost. I know not my purpose or position. I have become a robot of ruthless routine, the mundane awaits. Lurking on the edge of existence, I have forgotten how to live.

An afterthought in my own story, I am a postscript, an “oh by the way”, not thought of sooner, not thought of now and sometimes not at all. I have become invisible, unnoticed, thrown away with worthless disregard.

So far away from who I used to be, so unsure of who I am supposed to be. Confusion and dread settle upon me like a bulky boulder, unmovable and crushing. Weary from the weight of this tedious mass, I am defeated and overcome.

I find myself aimless and meandering, traversing the same ground over and over, wearing grooves in an unpaved, poorly marked path. Directions are meaningless. I have forgotten the way home. Nothing looks familiar anymore. I feel forever adrift.

Lonely isolation has become an unwelcome companion. It finds me daily and like a bully in the schoolyard, it taunts me without mercy, leaving me bruised. Its ridicule embarrassing me beyond all explanation, striping me of any modicum of pride left inside me. I am a skeleton, a shell, a whisper longing to be heard.

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