I've been musing over the idea that what you habitually think is what you ultimately become.. and noticed that negative perceptions of what we use to cope with reality can contribute to a hopelessness that is unparalleled. So I've habitually lived by reserving my full potential because I see that there is no way out besides suicide.. What is worth preserving in this pitiful state? To focus on life or death is to be biased, I only seek to be acquitted of the pain I know and accept the emptiness I leave behind. They've come again, peaking weekly. I cannot quiet the questions of "why" that threaten my composure. I cannot go to bed with moist eyes again. This story has to stop, I cannot persist.