I survived. Not that I deserve to be among the living. I can not contain the tears that are fueled by my past acts of cruelty and transgression. Past both far and near. It’s a disease within me. It’s me. I know this. Yet I still commit horrific deeds that breed nothing but pain. Hate even. I can deal with hate. I accept it. I deserve it. I can not, however, deal with the pain I have and still cause. I can not accept this. It might be me but it’s not right. I question survival. To what end I ask? More pain? I should be over. The devil inside scoffs. He chuckles as his deep voice booms inside my ear: Danijel, you are already dead. Welcome to the hell of your own making…