• I'm so sick of myself. My perspective runs so much of my life. & It's more warped than your theme parks and ink stained imaginations. When was the last time you saw things from my point of view? [When was the last time you tried becoming a solipsist to the horizon?] With words and names that far surpass anything you knew before this perverted state of mind set in for good. What will bring me the satisfaction that i desire? It is a person? A creation? An action? Why do i question this when everything i could ever need is lain out in front of me, like trauma to the victims you willingly choose and make your prisoners? Is the point for someone to save me, or to save myself? If i can and do save myself, does that mean i'll never find a hero? I'd forgotten how much freedom hurts I spend all my time wishing for it not realising that i gave my freedom away so that i wouldn't have to endure the pain. I'm finally alone and it's breaking time.

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