When I died, my shadow decided they would take over. But how many times have I already died? How much more should my shadow live?

You used to say you loved me and then you left me as a stranger, a piece of myself died that day. I felt like nothing in this world mattered anymore. The warmth of sunlight no longer touched my skin. I was cast into an abyss as I sunk from sublime heights into harrowing depths of disillusion.

My friends, family, peers, each one alike saw the transformation in me. Many mistook it for sadness, heartbreak, anger, but it was so much more than all of those. This was despair. My shadow took over.

Day by day my shadow grew. It began to swell until it became the shape of my room. Laying here, all alone in the dark. My shadow bleeds into the darkness of the room, filing the borders. This is the new shape I am. Alone in solidarity. Four walls, a floor, and a ceiling. This is despair.