Gaunt

I remember that though I was tired, for the first few years after “The Fall,” I still had resilient reserves which I worked to capitalize on.

You can see it in my profile picture – the layer of stored optimism as a roundness to my visage.

Five years later of increasingly hard grind and disappointments’ “failures” have thinned buffer.

The Crone has been feasting at my expense and sucking with glee – her teeth clenched over bone as she leers while sucking on its marrow.

How does one recover from loss of reserves without money or backup resources?

How does one keep from exploding in pent up, vexed rage when arriving to embittered outcome?

The topic of “forgiveness” has always been irksome because “consent” was never an option.