Nothing is here and is it distant

Bad habits. Destructive bad habits. Habits that consume your life essence discretely. Habits that once formed become impenetrable to your conscience. What sequence of events must have fallen unto this forsaken order for me to be the way I am today? I'm hollow, the insubstantial conception of feelings that seem to be apathetic, the backwards intuition and plagued emotions that go in conjunction with them. I want to be free, but every time I try to do so I'm swallowed alive by the curse that has been my burden to bear for these years. My talents and memories are most unfortunately suffering from my constant exhibition, the sole part of this conundrum that truly affects my soul, I feel worthless and most incompetent in all of my endeavors, what can I possibly do to return to who I suppose I was? I am alone, who can show compassion for he who has been to weak to stand back up to fight? I want to fulminate about from the real exasperation, unseen, never known, drowning in the abyss of my iniquity; for whom shall I reclaim my light? For I do not fulfill my destiny by manifesting darkness, and I forsake my own ambitions by destroying my lucidity.