My walls are still up, but they’re weakening by the tear fall. I’m not sure how I feel anymore. Sometimes I feel better; on most days at least. Those days are good to me, the distractions seem to work – The illusion of moving on without vivid intentions on either end, lust and everything else attached uncertainly to it. When the day’s over I have only enough energy to study and pull my covers over my head. If it ever seats in however, bitter or sweet, wrong or right reason, it’s just another added distraction. I’m afraid soon it won’t be enough though. It’s already beginning to feel like it and there’s only so much I can ignore around me that screams out everything I don’t want to remember. My walls maybe up, but they’ve weakened.