|| Rest ||
I'm sorry to have disappointed you.
As he re-read the words, over and over, his hands started to shake, and he dropped the pen he had been holding. Writing letters to ghosts? How much more foolish could he possibly be? He was beginning to grow frustrated with himself. And the feeling of being empty and emotionally broken grew like an infectious disease he'd studied about.
He hesitantly grabbed the paper, staring at it for a few moments more. No, to write something like this would be admitting defeat. Had he lost hope? He had once been so determined; his goal set in stone. Where was he now..? He crumpled the page, throwing it into the bin beside his desk.
Failed attempt after failed attempt. Was that the bane of his existence? He questioned this for a moment before resting his head on his desk.
Perhaps that's what he needed. Rest. He would continue pressing for his goal tomorrow. He would find another way to see that he fulfilled this… This— His life's purpose for the time being.
Yes, but for now, he would let himself rest. Life has been tiresome.