This will make no sense.

How deeply ironic, that as I compose myself to write, 'Pay For What You Get' begins to play.

It has always been special, this song. I must have listened to it a few hundred times in the last ten years, but every time it plays I discover its message anew.

How apt, that the man who introduced me to it seemed to never stop paying.

I am afraid. Of everything.

I live at the edge of life. Almost there, but never quite able to take that one last step, and really live. Afraid that I may not be cut out for life after all.

If only, I could escape. The small things that keep me here, make me happy, temporarily.

Am I searching for a fix. Another fix. The tragedy, of giving up drugs to embrace the far deadlier addiction of want.

I could eat the world and hunger still. I could be filled to gorging and hunger still. A perpetual resident of Satis House.

The art of repression. Which I had mastered. My mind is regurgitating all that has been forced into it since I was four years old. And I am covered in vomited anguish. Decades of it.

I thought I was unhappy because I didn't fit into that dress anymore. The time I spent, wanting to be this thin again. It never changes anything really.

My best friend isn't here, for me to drown my sorrows with. Tonight I must find another way. To hide. Forget. Feel loved.

And I want. More than anything, to not want. I crave the absence. The silence. When my mind was peaceful. Empty. What will happen, when I have nothing to think about.

Ants. Mindless. Marching. Ants Marching.

Meet my magnifying glass.