Hold on - that's what I keep telling myself... Hold on.
I feel like soldier that has marched long into the gates of war, long through the lands of death, fighting, killing, running, hiding - surviving. That's all he wants to do, survive this fire of hell and hope to someday come out and breathe the air of placidity, of freedom and peace of mind. Not to worry of who might be standing behind him, waiting for their chance to sink their sword into his back. Not thinking of where he might place his foot next, of who might place his foot for him.

A soldier who has faced death so many times and yet somehow has lived to stand and walk once more. But then, in the depth of this war, this senseless gears of whatever higher power that wills it to keep turning, he finds himself standing upon a tall rock plateau, backing away to the edge, surrounded by fire, cornered by foes of great might. Nay but his hands in front of him, nothing but bare skin and threaded cloth standing between their blades and his flesh. His scars tattoo him, a sign of his experience. But what do they matter in the face of such unrelenting, merciless, cold blood, evil hearted adversaries?

His heart jumps, and in that moment of panic and uncertainty, he leaps, he dives, he rolls, he moves in ways he did not see, he moves in ways he did not plan and then, he falls. Straight off the edge of this pillar of rock and stone, long he falls. But his hand catches a jutting stone, and there he is, hanging.

His world suddenly morphs. The clouds race, the sun's blood red becomes boldly gold and the fires are extinguished in an instant by the racing green of the world, by clear waters and a cool breeze. There was his dream world now suddenly lying a top of this pillar, and it was on the side of this rock of solitude, this rock of pain and damnation that he hung on to. Below him lay nothing but an abyss, and if he fell, surely the infernal flames would return. But as he hung, he realised, that the world upon the rock was salvation, a haven he had to reach and so one hand sung up, and he pulled, hard as he could, he pulled and lifted himself one step up. There were hundreds left to go.

This is a war I'm fighting day and night. To control my emotions and my rage to balancing the natural forces of energy that surround me. To try and force them to work harmoniously even though everything around me twists them in chaotic ways. Who can understand my predicament? My friends do, but they are as helpless as I am, because we are all forced by the hand of whatever power controls this world. And I am fated to be without them for long days.

It is hard for me to find my void again. The void i have maintained to retreat to, a void of absolute focus and a void in which i can feel every aura and see every movement of every being i am with. It is almost like a black room, but with walls that display all the details of everything I have seen, heard and felt. It allows me to study everyone and everything they and I have done, so that I may see where the improvements are to be made and where to avoid what. It allowed me to balance everything and make my decisions in life. But I cannot seem to attain it again, because every time i try, my energy flickers, and my concentration fades, because of all the stress that i could honestly do without.

I keep telling myself, forget it all, fuck them all. Let them rot, they are worth nothing. Forget it all and just focus on studying, it will take your mind off it all. Just focus on writing your books and getting them published because that's where, if all is well, your money will flow from. But it is too hard. I am too used to being friendly, too used to being accepted and liked. So instead i keep slipping, and if this bullshit continues i really dont know what i might do.

Hold on....
Just... Hold...On
DAMMIT!