I'm Coming, My Moon

Heyo internet, I'm back again. Finished another little artwork; this one's about grit. That passion you feel, that beautiful thing that drives you to keep going. And you're still marching on, and it still hurts, but you don't stop. Because you know damn well why you're doing this to yourself. You can see the darkness at the end of the tunnel, and in it, the blinding golden silhouette. Of him. Of her. Of whoever or whatever it is. They're what keeps you going.

I decided to come to this place to sleep- A hard floor would be a nice change of pace from the rainy grass- but I believe I am now trapped. The door slammed behind me and I can't open it back up, and the windows here are too high up to climb to.

I guess I'll only see the moon in my dreams until I get out.

I don't know how much longer I can go on.
I'd love to say this is a beautiful and poetic fate I'm heading towards,
but I'm unsure.
I keep seeing the faces of beasts,
angels and demons, staring back at me from the ether,
and the walls keep getting closer and then further,
and I hear the sounds of metal smashing coming from behind me.
I even let one of them come up to me,
and it slashed one of its claws across the side of my face, drawing blood.
Although after that, it stopped,
and as I stared it in the eyes,
it flew away.
I hope to see it again.
And I have tasted my blood,
to find that I can, sadly, still distinguish reality from fantasy.

I've stopped hearing the noises.
I haven't seen any more monsters in the air around me for a long time.
I haven't eaten in days.
I can feel my muscles eating themselves alive, just to stay alive.
I have nobody to talk to.
I'm so alone...
But I can't give up.
I'll go on.
I have to.
She's waiting for me.
I'm coming, my moon.