I have a very bad disease, of which I am not entirely sure I wish to purge myself of, that being, I feel that I am mobile when I seek control. (No, no going back, just keep writing this dreaded spew, I feel like I’ve gotten diarrhea both mentally and physically, no stopping, goddman it, not even a moment to gather my thoughts. I’ve never felt this angry, sad, maniacal all at the same time before.) I am everything I wish I were not or I wish I were everything I am not, some sick shit like that, so alone. No one can possibly understand it, or is it (yet, most likely) some goddmaned egotistical conceit, as if no one had ever taken this path before, been squeezed tight by obligations and filial duties you never know when the handcuffs are coming down, latching to your wrist.

I understand now. It really wasn’t for a single moment. I choose option two, hoping to God that there is an option Three. Lunacy, here I come.