Ripping apart the flesh of air

Everyday feels like I'm walking through Mercury: waiting for the madness to sink deeper into my flesh. I felt like a blind person regaining their sight: everything confusing, everything wrong. My life was mere spectre, unaware of the world.

And I keep tripping up and crashing against the tide. I'm never successful; I can never rest. No matter how hard I try, he always does it better. Everything I do, he achieves as well (and does it better). What have I always done wrong to end on the opposite side of the coin?

I grow tired of this. I grow tired of the emptiness. I grow tired of the struggle.

I just wish there was someone I could talk to.