The toy that was once not broken

So I guess my fate is sealed, the door momentarily opened to show a slight glimmer of light giving birth to thoughts, hopes and dreams of what lies beyond the realm of the door. The next moment, it shut tight. This wasn't a chance, it was torture the best of which the Universe could give. This bitterness will remain for a while. Difficulty to gulp this down is only certain. Now to take the emergency exit and see what awaits - impending doom, eternal damnation or a consolation. This is the end of a chapter people would want to forget.

Factum est.

Out! Out! Brief candle!

And so here comes the story teller, aged by the forces of time, wrinkled not at the face or skin, but in the heart...

As per usual, there were ups and downs, but it has only been conventionality that the magnitude of the latter far greatly towered over the former. At this rate, it is only a matter of time before depression knocks the door of my conscious mind and steps in, tormenting anything that is sane, distorting order by imparting chaos. Right now, the only thing safekeeping my sanity is merely a half severed lock. If this breaks, there will be nothing left.

I have the fight in me, I used to. Now? I'm not even sure myself. Given the very little fight left within, if there is to begin with, there is only so much I can take.

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour open the stage,
And then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot
Full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Life's good.