I want to stop being afraid but I keep doing things with consequences that terrify me. I can't tell myself no, my hedonism has turned self destructive. My long walks are starting to seem like death marches, I worry I won't know when to quit, or worse, that I've already missed my second chance. I've really tried to pinpoint the exact moment I lost control but I can't because loss of control is not something that happens in one moment. It's like sand through an hourglass, a million little things that seem like no big deal at the time, it's taking that extra valium, it's skipping your last class, it's telling yourself you'll deal with it tomorrow when you know you won't, it's bringing adderall on vacation, it's letting them do whatever they want to you, it's a slow loss of the sense of danger that keeps you alive, it's the blurry line between self love and self hate, it's living every day like it might be your last because maybe you're hoping it will be.