Epitomizing Abyss

The beige walls of my living room are lightly illuminated by the tiny lights that encompass a window overlooking my neighborhood, but as I gaze out, my index finger tickling the circular indent just recently made on my temple, all I see is abyss. A world home to monsters that creep into ears and play in brains, spitting and laughing. Dauntless attempts at desecrating a once perfectly well molded domain go blazingly noticed the darker the view becomes. And the longer that I sit, and stare, the deeper the abyss swallows. But I am still. My fingers clench tightly onto the lining of the chair and every time I try to move them, the wood creaks and I am reminded of where I am, what I am doing.

Who I am.

Life is so much deeper than what I am seeing. If gazing through a dark window is as miserable as it is, maybe I should have pulled the trigger.