My friend, I know you're there, I can see a trail of blood, but I cannot reach you; I cannot save you. You're wounded, terribly. I wish I could help by offering my hand to lift you, but where you are is somewhere I cannot venture. You're in a dream I cannot be, a war I cannot fight, though your body reveals the battle; tired eyes, a lifeless smile - I see the paint seeping through the pores of your skin. If you can hear me, surrender to fight back. Give up what you're holding on to - the memory, the identity, the failure, the expectations you believe to be fundamental, and stand before yourself, naked, true, to face the destruction you've left in your wake and rise about it all. That's it, that's the way.
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