Psychic Plea

Pull me away from the wreckage. I cannot break free of the chains that anchor me to this miserable existence. There is still time for me to redeem myself. But will I take this chance? Bitterness is an odd quality. It shows itself when you least expect it. I do not expect to be bitter. But I am. The seconds slide by, becoming minutes, which crystallise into hours. Sparkling drops of time that suddenly seeps through my fingers, falling...falling, and suddenly, whole years are gone. The skies are grey and cloudy, obscuring the morning sun, a fitting metaphor for my mood today. *pause* I've just received what many would say is a sign, an omen. *sigh* I must think hard this morning. Foresee the consequences of my actions. It is terrible, to have to decide which is the lesser evil. I've set two worlds on a collision course. And what I've set in motion, I cannot undo. I can only try to heal the damage I've done. At the present moment, all I can do is wait. Wait until the explosion has occured, and then I will figure out what course of action to take. I am hardly the epitome of patience, and watching the clock measure out the time I'm wasting is not helping my mood. I've reached out to my angels, sent that plea for help. Darkness cloaks me in its obscure comfort, but I long for the light of reason. White can appear black when the light is blinding. And now I have been blinded. The distinction between right and wrong has been blurred, and I've lost my moral compass. I can only hope an angel will take my hand and guide me in the right direction. Seif, I'm sorry. What has passed will never come to be again. With this in mind, I turn my back and walk away. Angels, come down from the heavens and lift me up.