I’ve been trying, trying to consume myself wholly into the only things I know to love; books and literature and soul-entwining scenery. But with every enlightenment comes a sinking, pleading, draining feeling of despair as I’m reminded of certain things in my life that somehow correlate with the things I find beauty and peace in, and then I’m lost again. It’s almost as if the harder I try to stay afloat, the more I drown myself.