you are a quintessential example of everything you hate

i feel sick. i can no longer turn my head, press my eyes shut, pretend i didn't hear. i can't wash my hands of anything anymore; the water itself is dirty.

there must be an escape. i can now admit that i deserve a way out. i don't want an award or an honour report. i don't want a war hero's funeral. i want to know that, after sixteen years and ten months, i am going to get somewhere before i inevitably kill myself.

this town is not my life, these people are not my friends, neighbours, brothers, parents, or saviours.

these four walls around me are the same as the four walls that surround you. we're both dying for a way out.

and you know you can't prove me wrong.