Not So Deep Thoughts

The above is the Triton outside for the first time in a long time. That is the collection of bits. Triumph engine, Triumph rear wheel. High Pipes, Norton chassis, front wheel, tank, seat, forks. The Chassis was Dad's first English bike, the engine was my first English bike, a nice combination. 

I got a letter from my friend Sean today. Was quite nice to hear from him, he's thinking about going from some seedy motel in LA to some seedy motel in Imperial Beach. We both shared a love for an HBO show that took place in the second, and Sean knows how to surf, so that's cool to him. 

I get a real kick out of Sean. He's a good kid, a bit mixed up, but no more mixed up than I am, probably no where close. But to imagine him living in some seedy motel in California living as a beach bum. He has enough money to buy a rather nice hotel, so seeing him in the $50 a night scene is a real kick. 

I'm going to try to sucker him into visiting in April, though I think the chances are slim. 

It's nearly 6am, I think I'll go down and eat soon, Trix are for Kids! Well I'm not a kid anymore, and I ate Shredded Wheat and Raison Bran when I was a kid, so naturally as an adult I have to eat Trix... Though I suspect the fact that the cerial turns the milk purple is somewhat bad. 

Passing Afternoon

Have I used this title before? So it goes with using songs for titles... The cat and dog have missed me, they have joined me in the kitchen for this late night meal. Was "Healthy Choice" macs, now it's going to be a bowl of cereal. The question is, why is someone so desperately under weight eating Healthy Choice? The answer is because it was in the freezer!

I just took 3 more Aleve. Way to go jack! 

I miss the txt messages from Cam saying "How do you spell ______" which I would reply the proper spelling and the next day find it worked into a tattoo on his body. That's power right there, thank god they weren't hard words, because we all know I can't spell. 

I am in so much pain! Mom asks how I am and I reply "fine" but it's difficult to hide it, and I know she knows. She says she'd do anything to take the pain away. I'd do anything to take her worrying about me away. 

No one is giving me shit for being back, which tells me how much they understand how hard it was to come back. But still I wish I could have played it like Luke in Cool Hand Luke, and fought until it killed me... but then I'm not sure I didn't. I can barely move about most of the time, and now rely on a cane half the time.

I wish...

But what does it matter what I wish? I want to scream. I want it to stop. Just stop. I want to be the average 25 year old. Sometimes I wish I really was dying - my old "I don't give a shit as long as it isn't terminal" is all well and good, but if I was at least dying there would be a legitimate reason for feeling like I was! Such anger, such emotion. It's unlike me. I'm supposed to be cool and collected. 

I have been in pain for over a decade. I just want it to STOP. I graduated high school 7 years ago and what have I got to show for it? And why? Because my body is fucked, and to some extent so is my mind. Jon is building nuclear power plants and I am sitting in my mother's kitchen at 1:30 in the morning racked with pain. 

What the fuck.

How can this be?

Stacks

I'm sitting in bed, or laying in bed listening to this silent and peaceful music. I am thinking about many things. Friends in particular. 

One of my best friends I think, is Liam. 

I know that I must mention Kyle, and Paul, Chris, Brent, Steve, Jon, John, and so on.. Kyle especially I owe a great deal to, I love Kyle a great deal, and never thought I'd love another like I do him. But then there is Liam. 

I get the knowing looks, the leers from Brent, but it isn't like that. It is not dirty or filthy or creepy. It may seem that way, but with Liam, he is so much like Kyle in the sense that the very thought of him brings a smile to my face. I cannot remain upset with him, and get that idiot grin on my face when ever I am within ten feet of him. Like Kyle too, that is as far as it will ever go, and there is no hope inside of me for anything further than that. My body to has long since accepted that, and respects it, something that only I think a select selection of the population can understand.

With the straights there is always a chance with a girl that you like or even love. They could come around. They could get really drunk one night and your morals may not be up to withstanding the on set of something you have dreamed of, or wished for for so long.

But for those of us who are not straight we have to come to some sort of realization at some point in our lives that we might fall for people who are simply unavailable and never will be available. Our hearts bleed, and yet we go on with our lives and make the absolute best of what of the friendship is available.

I remember how hard it was when Kyle began to date. How much I hated those he did date in the beginning. How could I not? It was another nail in the coffin that I could not get out. But I learned to live with it. I learned to deal with it, I had to, it was a sink or swim condition on our friendship. You cannot say to a straight friend that them dating someone else hurts you - how can you say that to someone who has never had the same inclinations? Now seeing Kyle with anyone, it doesn't bother me in the least, because now I just want to see him happy, no matter what, and that happyness - that level of happiness cannot ever include me. Fine, fine, that's ok, that is all good. 

So I was good. I had met the one straight guy I would fall head over heals for and grown to live with it and now I was good. 

Then came Liam. In the beginning there was more of a hope that he may have the same inclinations that I have. The pain in this is that even though we have discussed it, and I know that there is no chance I have other gay friends, and even straight ones who are absolutely positive that Liam is gay. They say "Oh, he'll be out before the end of the year" and I try oh so hard to dismiss these prophecies as I have to. I have to accept that there is no chance for any more than an awesome friend. 

But what if? What if he does have the same inclinations? If I release the grips on saying No he does not then I can see where the others are coming from and my mind screams at me, "He IS!" and no, that doesn't mean he is Gay. I frankly hate the labels. Sometimes I am gay, sometimes I am straight, and sometimes I am Bi. Labels just don't seem to fit me. I hate them as much as Cody used to. I don't think anyone should have to wear a label, because then society somehow wants you to fit into the label given to you, and that is down right bullshit. 

So what if Liam is not 100%? Then we get to learn something new. Then we get to learn to live with something that we have yet to learn. Can I be happy for a friend who has found someone else who is also a male? Can I look past my own emotions and still want what is best for my friend, can I still want his happiness? That is the question. The easy answer is yes. 

It's not an easy answer. I long ago gave up on being happy in that way. As much as I would love to have someone I could love, who loved me back sitting next to me in bed right now, I have so many demons, so many scars from my past that I am quite sure I will never be able to be close like that again. It has been 10 years since I have been able to share a bed with someone on any more than "This is my best friend in the world and I trust him completely because he shares none of my inclinations and so I know he will remain on THAT side of the bed."

I have not cuddled in ten years. I have not kissed anyone and enjoyed it in close to 11 years. I have not slept with anyone with any sense of joy in just as many years.

Too much information? I don't give a shit, this is my blog, why are you even here?

But all of that said, the real kicker is that Liam is someone I think I could trust in those ways. Someone I would feel safe with. But then again, I am currently under the impression from a discussion we had that he has none of those inclinations, and I should trust what we have spoken over what anyone else has ever said, because what the fuck do they know about anything? 

So I continue to revel in the fact that I have another kick ass friend, another best friend, this time one who also likes old music, likes listening to records, loves motorcycles and crazy contraptions. What JOYS these are! I can not even begin to describe.

So for now I bury away my doubts, my concerns, and my wondering. What place does it have in the open? It can only do any good on a blog, and it is only on a blog because I have no notebook to put it into, and no body that I know of knows this exists, no one who knows me in this life, so I have no concerns. 

Besides, some of these concerns are unknown but you put me in a room with Liam and any person with an IQ over 50 can figure out in about 5 minutes that I like him. I don't give a shit about those sorts of things, and never have. 

Think what you will of me. 

Secrets poison the soul, and I have for so long had so many secrets that now I will tell just about anyone anything they wish to know about me. 

With that said, all of that out of my system, I am going to go ahead and read a few chapters of my book, and then lie down, turn out the light and pretend to sleep.

Drive

So it goes that I have moved back into the basement, I haven't slept down here in 7 months, but I am working my way up to going to the old cot and having some sleep. I just took a bath in my old tub and felt quite at home - despite the fact that I can stretch out in the tub in the master bath and have to lay with my legs folded in this one... this one is MY tub. Also being from the 20s it was built for the use as a Bath Tub and not just some nifty looking thing you bolt a shower to, in other words, I fit! 

This was taken moments ago, I am happy at having hair so short again. The picture below it shows me just 7 months ago in previously mentioned bath tub with my shaggy hair. I have to say, this is MUCH less trouble. 

This giant picture is my current residence, all mine, about 1000 sq feet I should think, it's a bit unfinished, concrete floors, battered ceilings, work benches, spiders, the whole bit. But you know? I have 4 years to make it nifty. I lived here from about Aug 2007 through June 2008, and I'll be here from March 2009 till roughly August 2013(ish) if not longer. So you know? I have time. Better diagram and real pictures when the rest of my stuff gets here. This by the way is only 1/3 of the basement! 

This lovely fixture is I hope going to be what I bolt to the side of Dad's Triumph, which will make the bike into a 4 season fix, and also make grocery shopping and school a bit more livable.

But I digress, it is 1 in the morning and time to hit the sack! More later, I do promise you that.

PS: I'm happy to be home, but I miss Arizona and the friends I made there. 

Last Day in Phoenix

Well today is indeed the last day in Phoenix, perhaps for a long time. Just as I had no idea when I might be moving back to Worcester - if ever, now I know that I am and I have no idea if or when I would be returning to Phoenix AZ. That is the nature of life. You come and you go, its a long and winding road. 

I'm pretty tired, I've been up since 7:30 this morning. A lot has been accomplished since then, the Triumph T100 is now on it's way back to Worcester, and so is all of my stuff. The shipping was much cheaper than I thought it was going to be. 

I also have more or less cleaned up my entire apartment. I still have to deal with the kitchen, and get rid of the sheets in the bedroom. I also have to throw away a towel that I have had since I was 12, that's 13 years of loyal service, but I needed it for a shower after I packed my bags and now my stuff is on it's way to Worcester and the towel is not. It's like parting with an old friend.

One of my picture threads was bumped on the forum. The bump was simply to tell me that facial hair is ugly. Now I have been feeling like shit for months. I don't date, I don't even attempt it any longer. So tell me what is the purpose to looking my best when I don't have any place to be. I contemplated explaining this as a reply, but I figured I'd go with a New Englander's reply instead, so I took a picture and posted it:

I also took a picture for Facebook. My last day in Phoenix. I like how my hair is coming back in, and I like it at this length. There's no fuss with short hair, there is no effort in trying to keep it combed. I've never been much good at keeping my hair together nice and proper - so it's best to keep it just so nice and short that I don't have to concern myself with it. 

The pipe is a Peterson, made in Dublin which is a wonderful pipe, the soldier's special, it comes apart easily for carrying in a pocket and for cleaning with the simplest of tools. The tobacco is Bombay Extra made by McClelland. Wonderful stuff, strong stuff. One of the few pictures I've taken in the last few months with my glasses on, as I hate them so much - not because of how they look, though I hate that too - but because I simply hate having to wear them. 

I am watching the movie Appaloosa which is quite good, an old school western without the stupidity of an old school western - such as white people with lots of makeup playing Indians and shit like that. Much to be said for the progression of modern times. 

There is a lot of good to be said for this movie. The talent is wonderful, the plot is excellent, and the shooting and angles are perfect, as is the lighting, the sound, and everything that goes with it. It is one of the movies that makes me love the movies, this is only the second time I have seen it. 

One of the bit parts in the film is a cattle hand who turns witness against "the bad guy" who is a much more refined bad guy than your usual old western bad guy. Sort of like Crowe's character in 3:10 to Yuma. A bad guy certain people can respect. Again this can be seen in The Dark Knight with The Joker.  

Anyways the character is played by Gabriel Marantz who I think is quite good looking. My kind of guy. Not much about him on the Internet Movie Database, but there is something to be said for that, and by posting this in this blog it will remind me to look him back up again later on.

My apartment isn't as clean as it could be, I have more to be doing, and should get to it. I am also tempted to go to sleep for a while. 

There are thoughts on a tattoo tonight. I'm not hundreds yet if I will go through with that, but I think I might. Would probably be my last one for quite a long time. There is a great deal to be said for tattoos and a great deal to be said for free tattoos. 

Well at any rate, more later, perhaps not until I am back in Worcester. Time will tell.

The red is compliments of my Xanga blog. I worked out the overall costs of the next four years while I was on there, and it is a bit staggering I have to admit. But it's nothing I cannot do. 

There is nothing that I cannot do. Though instead of doing THIS I should be working on getting my apartment squared away. Oh what joy is this? To have to pack up and throw away pretty much everything I have ever known and cared for out here in Phoenix.

This was like a new life. Now it is over with, and I am scrambling. But I function well enough in a scramble. There are days when I wish it could have worked out differently. I was so close!

But really quite far. Really much farther than I care to admit. But that is the way of the story.

Just barely finished high school.

Attempted college time after time.

Moved to Youngstown twice to work as a prep chef.

Moved to Vermont to go into Culinary school.

Back to Worcester State

To Quinsig Community College.

To here.

Now back to QCC for a year, then onto WSC.

WoW. What a world, what a life I have lived. Really sounds very simple and very boring if you avoid the details. Oh such details. Horrible details.

I don't have baggage. I have skeletons, and lots of them. My friend Sam would have turned 20 today. Should have turned 20 today. Oh the Ides of March! To be born on the day JC was killed by his closest. Rome wept. Sam died on Feb 3 2006 at the age of 17 and I wept. 

So it goes. How many dead?

Sam

Tim

Mark

Nick

Frankie

Adam

Kevin

How many more? Those are just from my past. That list doesn't include Mike who shot himself last month, nor does it include Dad, who died 2 years ago, or Nick who got killed in an auto accident, or that dude I knew who was killed in Iraq who's name escapes me. Too much death to remember the names. You have to laugh. If you don't laugh, well then you cry.

Would I rather laugh or Cry?

You Got to Cry without Weeping

Talk Without Speaking

Scream without raising your voice!

That's U2 for you. The Joshua Tree if I remember right. 

Ok, back to the apartment.

Going to be hard living with someone again. I have to build myself back up. Once I do that I can get a job at a grocer or something. I'll have to register the T100 when I get home if I can afford it, and I'll have to investigate colleges and the cost of colleges. 

Min Wage in MA is $8 per hour. So before taxes if I'm working an 8 hour shift that's $64 a day, $512 a week, about $2000 a month, and $24,000 a year. 

Fine. You can live on that. That is the goal. To get employed and start making money. 

A full time student is 12 credit hours. 

So at QCC first $132 per credit hour, which is about $1600 a semester not including books, so lets make that $2000 even if we include books. So 2 semesters per year, and lets throw in one summer semester for good measure, which lets assume is what I'll need to get back to Worcester State College. That's $6000. 

Let's assume worst case scenario and say I have to do 3 years at Worcester State, because honestly I have no idea what class's I have done, but I do know that I don't remember shit from any of them, so the best course of action money or no might be to just start fresh and do it right. 

WSC is about $250 per credit hour. 

SO that's $3000 per semester plus $400 for books, add another $100 for random fees. That's $3500 per semester. 3 years is 6 semesters. That's about $18,000. 

So we are looking at about $24,000 over the next 4 years, that's $6000 per year. This is night school on top of working 8 hours a day. 

So if I'm making about $24000 a year, let's say $20,000 because I have no idea what taxes are. That's $14,000 a year to live on. Which is about $1160 per month, which is about $300 a week. 

Some amount of that $300 a week has to go to mom, and some of it has to go into savings, or I chip in for groceries and be self sufficient with transportation, and bank the rest?

Going through all that math, motorcycles are going to have to wait, the Triton, Norton, and what ever else is going to have to wait. 

I can keep the T100 going for that.

Courage?

They all say I have it in bounds. They all say that I have so much courage. That I have fought my way through thousand of miles of a shit storm. That I fight still. 

What is this courage? I am frightened most of the time. Scared to death. I look back at the things I have seen and experienced and I wonder what the hell has it all been about?

I'm 25 years old. I don't deserve this. What did I do to deserve all of this? What did I do so horrible in the last life that I am still being punished in this one? 

What have I done to deserve so many wonderful friends. I can't stand it. Everywhere I go I make strong friends. I have friends of all ages, from 15 to 65 years old. What makes me so special? 

Is there courage in living through constant pain? Is there courage in continuing to try time after time as plan after plan fails? Is that what courage is? What other choice is there? What other option is there but to keep going.

My life feels like a snow storm. Walking in a snow storm. I tuck my chin down dig my hands into my pockets and walk against the cold cold wind slowly so as not to slip. 

What else can we do? 

My greatest fear was to grow old and die alone. The shrinks tell me that I won't ever be able to trust enough to get close to someone. I will never have a partner, a mate to grow old with. I have accepted that I have to live out my greatest fear.

My greatest dream was to become a motorcycle mechanic who was known, respected, who built specials. The go to guy if you want to ride some old classic in the modern world without trials or troubles. 

In the last few months I have watched my greatest dream get torn down around me and destroyed. It lays in ruin as I sit here in my apartment gathering together my possessions to move back home.

Is it courage to look in the face of such a loss as the loss of your dream and try to shrug it off? What stuff is this? 

I feel like utter shit. I am tired, worn out, battered and broken, and yet I continue? What choice is there but to continue? How is that courage? 

How can it be that I can feel so broken and so battered at 25?

How can it be?

I am so tired of watching my friends grow up and move beyond me. Jon is a Nuclear Design Engineer. Brent is a helicopter pilot. Kyle is almost a rocket scientist. Kyle the freshman when I was a senior. Kyle was the boy. What a good man he has turned into. What an incredible friend. Liam a freshman when Kyle was a senior, Liam now a senior himself. Another incredible friend. Watching people grow up around me. Watching them change. I feel trapped in time.

They say I did something great. I through everything into this and did it. I came out here and pursued my dream. I Did it! I failed but I tried. How many people can say they tried? They really tried. How many can say they chased the dream.

I don't want to grow old and bitter. I suppose I already am old and bitter. 

Time will tell.

Pain Again

The walls are almost bare. I have 14 pictures left. I have 9 that I plan to keep. I have 5 and a half boxes packed. I figure I'll have 6-7 when it's all said and done. What will it cost to ship them? I don't know. 

I do know I have $1380 in cash, and I have $545 coming in later today which makes $1925. On the other hand I owe the bank $1131 which will leave me with $794.

Now shipping the Triumph back to Worcester is going to cost $675 which leaves me with $119. A plane ticket home is going to cost $177 which $58 in the red. We figure about $400 to ship all my stuff home, that puts me about $458 in the red. My only fear is that the bank is going to do something funky so that I can't go so high into the red again. Which would throw a huge crowbar into the works. 

I'm supposed to get between $1000-4000 back from school. So that will pay for the money I'm in the hole, as well as the $850 I owe the apartment complex for breaking my lease. 

As to the title of this little post, my body is racked with pain again. Actually I can't remember when I wasn't in pain. 

This is the letter I got from Jon, which pretty much sums up the response I got from everybody about the end of my time here:

Jack. cant wait for your rwteurn. You have beem sorlely missed . 
Jack, You did it! you will never look back in life and say " I wish I 
had done..." You went....you have shown more courage in your life than 
I in mine. I am so proud of you. Now, get back here. we all cant 
wait!!!!!!!!!!!!! what day is your arrival?

Pain

This picture shows perfectly why I have to abandon Arizona. This was taken by a friend just before I passed out. That's all of my 135 pounds, my pants which have a 34 waits barely grip at my hips anymore, they fit snug when I bought them in July. 

No pain killers, apparently I have "Drug Seeking Behavior" maybe that's because I'm often in pain that can only be managed with pain killers? 

It's hard not to grow bitter. 

I've been dealt a cruel hand and I've spent the better part of the last 14 years playing it. 

I'm tired. 

I'm in pain. 

I currently have a horrible cough. 

I just watched my dreams go down like a plane that lost it's wings. 

Tell me how to remain upbeat, because I'm running out of ideas. 

I'm running out of ideas.

4:07AM

The Enfield went up for sale last night for $1500, which is about $1000 less than it's worth, and equally so for what I have in it. Got to love the fire sale method. But I need that money to get back East.

Going back East. Ya, that's a kick in the head, continues to kick me in the head, and I am utterly overwhelmed by the idea of how to pack up all my stuff and get back East. I hadn't anticipated this.

I remember when I left in July 08 I said I'd not come back early unless it was in a pine box. Well I'm pretty fucking close. I weigh about 138. I am in constant pain. Yes yes, I've been through all this, I know. It's just so hard to turn loose of this one.

I'm trying to remain upbeat. 

I'll be going back to family. 

Mom's giving me the master bedroom, which has a bathroom to die for. A walk in shower and a tub that someone 6'5" can actually fit into. All tile, walls, floors. The purple stained glass window. Haha, there's even a powder room. The fixtures are all Crane which was a prestigious company for many years, top notch when the house was built in the 20s, and lets face it the bedroom is bigger than my apartment, and has 4 large windows looking out on beautiful views. Walnut floors, the 3" thick arched walnut doors with full length mirrors. 

But let's not fool around, dad did Die in that room. He died on the bed I'll be sleeping in. I can take it though. I can take just about anything.

The 3 year anniversary of Sam's death was last month, his birthday is next weekend. *kick*

But I have dad's motorcycle, the Triumph T100 - which is excellent as the Volvo wagon - the car dad and I drove to Mexico and back when I was 17... that's gone now, sold away for scrap while I've been in Phoenix. Am I allowed to cry for a car?

I'll be able to see Kyle again. Boston is Much closer to Worcester than Phoenix. Paul and Chris are finishing up at WPI, two of my best friends. They both have bikes in mom's garage, I actually supplied them both with those bikes. Chris with a '76 Yamaha for free, and Paul I sold my Moto Guzzi. 

How I miss that bike, the Guzzi. But Paul is in love with it as much as I was. I still remember that day, it was a perfect day. 

I can go back to my trips to The Boulevard Diner in the wee small hours, I can go back to Coney Island. I can go back to bowling. 

Worcester the city that always forgives me, even when I can't forgive myself. 

John Deedy too, there is a missed friend. I actually found the keys to his apartment tonight in an Altoids tin. 

Balducci has been visiting since Wed. He flies onto Maine tomorrow, err, well in 2 hours we take him to the airport. In his luggage he is carrying a seat, airbox, and magneto for my motorcycles, always a good friend trying to save me some trouble!

I look over to my left at the wall and see pictures of Dad. Always brings tears to my eyes. I can't help it. How can I be expected to help it?

I have made great friends down here, Cam, Zack, Zero, and others. Cam is my best friend here. I gave him the KZ1000 I rode out here on after I'd known him for a day. Just to feel like myself again. Such a different set of cats than I'd known before. A tattoo artist, a Texan firefighter musician, a mexican gang banger. I'm also friends with farmboys, california pot heads, motocross racers, rice rocket types, and harley buffs. What variety. 

I also befriended Joe, an instructor at the school. Born in the same town. A true New Englander. Made great money building expensive Harley's. Great guy. Reminds me heavily of Steve Davis, but without a conscience. 15 years in the Army and a few gunshot wounds will do that to you. But I have the greatest esteem for the man, and he's got a cool wife and a great kid. He's been really cool to me since I've been here, I've eaten many a free meal over there, spent hours working on bikes and learning tons. 

I walk away with two good tattoo's. I walk away with my pride intact. I walk away knowing I did EVERYTHING I could, Gave everything I had, and more. I am now a walking skeleton. I am now Death warmed over. 

I've lost the plot tonight. I have to get out of here. 

Fucked

Well it's fucked. 

Today is Saturday the 7th. On Monday March 2nd I withdrew from MMI. My body was just too hammered to continue. On Wed my buddy Jon flew in from Korea (stopped here in Phoenix) to visit for a few days before returning to Maine, and the day after he arrived I came down with the flu, which is just now beginning to show signs of being over. 

I've listed the Royal Enfield on craigslist for $1500 which is just over $500 less than it's worth and about $1500 less than I have invested in it. But I NEED the money and have no way of getting it home - that would cost $650. The Triumph Has to go home, so that's $650, a plane ticket is $150. Shipping my stuff should be about $300. 

I might be able to do it without the Enfield. Time will tell. I want to be out of here by next week. 

man I feel terrible. more later.

Passing Afternoon

I am in so much pain. 

I know suicide is evil. 

It's the final solution. 

It cannot be undone. 

Do I really hate life this much?

I don't. 

Hate life.

I am six foot five inches. I weigh one hundred and forty pounds. I don't have health care. I live in a country where if you don't have it and you need it - it is harder to get. 

Can I get it?

yes.

Will they pay for the medication I need to be useful?

no.

My muscles ache. My leg muscles, my feet, my hands, my arms, my shoulders, my head, my eyes. They all ache. My insides ache. It all hurts. My feet feel like they are going numb. Muscles twitch and spasm. I cough up blood. I piss it. I have little to know energy. It's hard to move. I get dizzy when I stand up. My eyes feel like they are bleeding. I just want to lay here. 

I just want it to be over. 

Is it just the physical pain?

no.

So many friends in the ground. So much loss. So much innocence gone. So much beauty that I can't touch. So much alone. So much pain. 

My feet and legs feel like they are dying. I can feel it crawling up my legs. Like vines going up a chimney. It's almost at my knees. Piercing pain in my arms, my left knee, my right elbow, in my chest and in my ribs.

Feels like I am suffocating but I also feel like I need to puke. Movement is tight. Raising my arms above my head makes them tingle and ache even more. 

I don't want to live life as an invalid. 

I don't want to go home again with my tail between my legs. 

I can taste it. 

Success. 

I can taste freedom.

How much more can I take?

How much more?

I already feel as though I am standing in an open grave. 

I am 25.

I have been in emotional pain since I was 11.

I have been in physical pain since I was 15.

How much more is there?

How many more years?

I am so tired.

I just want to sleep.

I imagine that this is what it feels like to die. 

So how long must it take?