In the shadow of ramparts

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Vilifying a supposedly wonderful sentiment that once bore me warmth and positivity in my daily routine yet now represents my deepest horrors is indeed a massive demotivator. There has been no inkling of any great and tragic loss, and yet somehow the lingering feeling of mourning occurs within me nonchalantly that is representative of my deep-seated insecurities, now intermingled with the deluge of many unknowable entities of causality, what-ifs, and regrets. Have I done any foolish misstep to deserve this heavy weight imposed upon me by mine own shadow? Does it truly represent that same great evil that once uncovered me for what I could be under unfortunate circumstances wherein I have no control even over my own whims? Or it by some kind of transcendental law or cosmic comedy that submits me into this outcome of inevitability?

It seems to me that there is no end to the weight left upon me by the albatross that has found refuge on my shoulder. There is no reprieve to the madness, only short intervals and hiatuses that serve as a breather to subside the aspects of torturous sentiments which never seem to go away. It should have been over by now, yet here I am mirroring the worst aspects of the madness slowly chipping at me piece by piece.

When all is said and done, what is left of me?

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