I am losing the battle.
I struggle to attain small happiness and end up feeling lost.
I keep telling myself that I am okay, that everything is okay, and that I am strong.
The bow is stretched as far as it can go, and I aim at nothing. I am fighting against the invisible enemy.
With shaking hands, I put down my armor.
I think of loved ones, alive and gone, and remember laughter, comfort, and warmth. In somewhere, someone might, perhaps, care about me and think of me.
Picking up a shining sword of courage again, I forage.