Death by tears

I strode into the forest with all my eggs in one basket. With the refusal of defeat clinging to my heels, I thrust myself head long into the desolation of the trees. Through the thicket I lacked the vision to see beyond my own ruin. The situation I refused to acknowledge. The circumstance I refused to accept. I lost my footing during the nights hunt and now I sit in perilous affliction. The beams from the moon drives the lunacy into the trap and wracks my mentality. 

Never have I been this dejected nor this completely disconsolate. The actuality of my condition has all been self composed and so I feel it is appropriate for me to carry out my own execution. 

The things I hide from the rest of the world only cast a shadow that alludes to innocents. I am in such a deep sorrow I cannot function outside of it and I conceal to get by. There are some things in life that cannot be corrected by others. I am deserving of this, because I brought the plague upon myself. So now I rightfully suffer the consequence of my actions and the girl within myself writhes in helpless anger. I can't climb out of this without someone, I can't do it. The longer I sit here, the more the light wanes. Until the moonless sky envelopes my sanity and death comes to claim me. It's true. I've been contemplating my own end, but in a way that carries more folly than finality. It only took me as far as the minutes after my death to realize the ones who would find me and the ones who would speak of me would do so in a fashion my life would not respect. My death will not come as of yet. It must wait. For I have not made the necessary arrangements for the crypt.