pushing forward with everything left in my withering body. Before, I simply pretended to feel the way I used to. I went through the motions without any real desire to actually be doing them. Faking it because that’s what I thought I should be feeling.

He’s on some kind of weird moral crusade, but what am I doing? Why am I here? My biggest problem is how absolutely out of control I’ve become. It doesn’t help that all we’ve done is react to all these shit storms exploding around us. That’s fine with Hayden since he’s not really the planning type, but that’s not me—at least, it wasn’t.

So, how did I get here? I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. The only thing that matters is what’s going to give out first: my feet, spirit, or mind?

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