The street lights are few and far between but every time I pass one it reflects off of the asphalt, slick with rain. The last one almost fucking blinded me. I guess being blinded wouldn't be at all detrimetal to tonights undertaking. The whole idea is to get hurt, isn't it? Let the pain flow out through open wounds. Nothing else will get rid of it.

Another street light is coming up, and there are a few cars on the other side. More are cresting the hill in the distance. This might not be the best time for this; I think I missed my chance. The others on the road may not have the pain built up inside, and when there's no pain then life will bleed out in its place. And that's the trick to it, too. Let the pain flow out, but when you run out of that you'd better have something to patch up with or you'll be joining the consciousness impaired.

I'm still inside here somewhere. Grayed out, covered over by the misery, but there. A little bit of me comes peeking through once in a while. When the pain is gone, I'll re-emerge. Alive and well. I can be me. The cars are gone now. I'm alone out here now, and I passed the last street light a minute ago. It's dark, lonely, and I know of a good redwood a few miles up that ought to do the trick.

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