I forgot how deflating, grating it all can feel sometimes: just how it can make me feel so mediocore and completely powerless in the face of it; and just when I'd found the Herculean strength to strike down Goliath then does my shield buckle and my sword crumble, for though I struck as hard as I could and in my mind there could be no more matched foe for him than me, it seems that nothing could even scratch him. Though even I batter him still with my fists akimbo until I would no sooner collapse than to forfeit with a raging light the only thing I understand in such heat, the only thing but to fight, fight, fight, only then does he finally do me in with that inescapable, distant, coldness.
And I feel no enjoyment out of our collective empathy; there is nothing which makes me feel worse actually; it's far more humiliating than it is even any degree of enjoyable: when you've done your best only to have the textbook slammed on your head so hard it would clip through to your soul, that is how I understand glittering, misty-eyed incompetency. I thought I was beyond the grasp of such a feeling. "I'm not sure how you're still holding up with all that!" I'm not: perhaps only barely: with my bravery in one hand and my stubbornness in the other I am glad that this confusing enemy does not stick around for long.
Remember to breathe; remember to sleep.