  partially true words that I seem to want to make myself believe: Everything is dead to me. I cannot comprehend the harshness of everything laid bare. Though my eyes are shrouded, the images imposed in my mind flash before me constantly, and I cannot feel their impact upon my spirit. I cannot lead myself to the light. One must if one seeks to forsake all when one is compelled to by force. There is no guide but one's conscience... there is much that I cannot bring myself to say, and so, will be left unspoken to those who do not wish them to be revealed. 
