Didn’t used to be that way. I’ll be at work and I’ll feel it begin to come on and I’ll have to run to my custodian closet at work to isolate myself and bawl. Uncontrollably. I realize stressors in my life have begun to take on a shape of unbearableness. I look back and wished I had done more, WAS more. Every single failure I’ve been and each opportunity I’ve let escape, every chance I had to stand up for myself. I’m nothing but pathetic, I can see myself as nothing more. It’s chaos though this life is drum, mostly. Staled and unsavory and nothing seems salvageable. Giving up eyes me like a seductive luxury, and I want to give in to a final sin, revealing to me the only fairness I’ll ever know in life. The mercy I can imbue into myself, the penetrative relief of the jailed soul broken loose of the physical. I want this. My own poorly utilized being has become as immaterial as everything else I’ve let go of. Fuck it.