Has it ever dawned your mind how arduous it has been for me? It’s like feeding myself with nothing, making my innards go berserk; it’s like taking my pills and half-drugging myself to death every time you usurped my sanity.

Sometimes it feels like my world is suffocated with its own oxygen; crouching under the intoxicated, nicotine-tinged atmosphere as though gasping for a fresher air to breathe, hailing feebly for survival.

This is, as I have now realized, a turmoil. And I am writing this with what little sanity I have left.