I'm trying to find some help.
They say it's good.
They say it's nice, that it really helps.
I tried you know.
Reaching out, even though I don't usually do it.
Talk, because they said it helps.
I tried pulling myself together.
Patched my self with rugs but it can't be help, I can't be help.
It just made things worst.
They said it is helpful but I guess I am beyond saving.
I am slowly sinking, falling, and drowning to the point that I embrace it.
It's nice.
It's cold.
And I know it will never be warm.
I can't help it, help just seem so far away.
So far away, the land of indifferent gods, unfeeling creatures, selfish people.
Hah!
I'm really pitiful.
I can't help but take pity on myself.
This is the help that I give to my self. Pity.
A help given to lowly creature, beyond saving, almost dying and never escaping.
Ah! I see.
It's such a shame only me takes pity to myself.
I guess I'm too good of an actor.
Tough.
Strong.
Unyielding.
Not broken.