I ripped my tentacles off so that I could breathe and inhaled the pain so that I could live. I've moved to the mountains. I don't have an address here, but I'll get a P.O. Box soon. I'm going to be a scholar. I'm going to deconstruct the world and solve all of its problems. Then make a model of my progress in sand. If I could get my delicate heart to stop beating, maybe I could forget about her.

I guess that's a lot to ask for. Especially when I think of all of the scars she left me with. How I lost a battle without knowing I was even at war. I didn't see it coming. Wrapped up in the moment I guess. Wrapped up in the dream like I had hypothermia. I still shiver. I still have visions and I still wish I knew where you were to explain it all to me, and tell me that you were real. That it wasn't all a dream and I am really here and they're not going to lock me up.

You're going to hate what I've become. I'm sorry that I saw Jesus . . .and that I sold the cattle for my addiction. I've been bleeding pain and inhaling messages for days. I think the time has finally come.