To be honest, at this point in my life it just seems like life is a string of punishments and circumstances with the aim of destroying you, and that it's all about forcing your will upon all those whirlwinds and storms and fighting and generally experiencing that scene in 300 where they're all on that ship just screaming at the sky.
You make decisions, and constantly have to decide which of your own fingers you must break or sever in order to loosen the clutch of your own hand over your throat. Then once in a while you decide not to cut off a finger. Maybe instead you'll help someone with their fingers. Maybe instead you'll swallow some spit and savor a few second's rest from fighting, but then you realized that now the grip is only tighter and now your nails are digging into your jugular vein.
Then maybe, after you've gnawed off your right hand, you can use the left to dig yourself out of the grave you've been lying in the whole time. And after all that maybe you're digging and scratching and reaching and kicking will lead to your fist finally punching into air, with a few desperate gasps filling your lungs and your eyes able to see a night sky brighter than anything you've ever seen in your life.
Unfortunately, that only happens if you're lucky. Most people simply choke to death by their own hand.
As i get older I feel like i'm learning that this is life.
