go free, go off the map

there is nothing honest about me or my life

when knox dies, i’m out of here. got nothing left

i’m worried it will always be you

what am i meant to do with how much i loved you?

“I felt an abject unconcern that only comes when there is nothing left to dread, when you find yourself in a cycle of failure so inevitable that it might as well become deliberate. In the addiction literature I read later — desperately, begrudgingly— I learned this is not an uncommon feeling. I found there was a twisted delight in self-obliteration, a relief in the voluntary surrender. It was a shred of power, bleak but gratifying, the kind grasped for when a person’s only recourse against the absurd helplessness of living becomes the ability to destroy their life completely, willingly.”