Wear

I feel like I'm being worn down to the bone, every day dragging like the last when you're not here. And you're not. And you won't be for so, so long.

So I go on, existing from day to day, from bed to work and back, and life is a haze of muted colours and muffled noise.

I hope by the time my purgatory is over I won't be worn out entirely.