I just can't run away like I used to...

What matters most isn't my resolve or determination, but the waning strength of my sanity.

There is a beast hanging on my back that tells me every day I won't live long enough to see any type of fruition.

In the midst of everything, I know that I am destined only to escape. And, one day, it's going to be in a way that is irreversible. In just the same way that I can never keep anything, life can't keep me locked up forever. Even in death, there has to be some sort of release.

Right now, all this means a constant escape through chemical stimulation. I am not narrowsighted, nor self-centered; I know what this kind of madness grows to.

...But I'd be happy if I could just get a short period of fulfilled happiness before I die. I've just seen too much of some feelings, and they're thinning the walls that keep my mind stable. I reach extremes outside of those walls, sometimes -- and it scares the hell out of me.

So, in reality, I'm dedicating the next few months of my life to escaping from my life. Ultimately, I think that it will lead to escaping life permanently, or just being drawn back into it. And then, I'll be here again. I'll come back to living in a constant state of mental deterioration.

I feel just as pathetic writing this as anyone who reads this thinks I am.