Doubts About Another Wednesday

Everything is caving in. I'm trying to distract myself, but I can't get out of my own head. The flames constrict my vision, and the choir erupts in my ears. I don't want to be this way, I never wanted this. I want peace, love, and understanding; these things are no closer today than twelve years ago. My fate is measured and cut; I can't dodge fate. I try to keep my eyes and ears occupied, but they always find a home in my quiet moments and on the inside of my eyelids. I don't know what to do. Twelve years in hell give me no answer to the flames and no command of the choir; every day in hell, it gets a little worse. I would ask for help, but I don't want to get my hopes up against my troubles and my solitude.