I have a hunger for something to make me feel alive. Drugs won't work, alcohol won't work, anything else won't work. Adrenaline that's what I gotta have. Something turned a switch on inside my heart when I hurried away from the funeral to go yell out in some random field in Dearborn. Am I calling to God or even my late father? No I'm calling to life and laughing. It's all I can do? I feel like risking my life and taking a chance. To crash and burn failing to turn away. I'm not talking about canal pleasures of fleshed our desires. Survivors guilt. That's what these feelings are. Where have all my positive male role models gone? I decided that psychosis isn't all that bad because I don't believe my own bullshit. Can I be the best person I can be while facing my own madness and off kilter? Well I decided to keep diving in the depths of despair. I believe it's Nietzsche that supposed having to repeat life over again and again. Fuck it. Let's do it. Bring on the pain and craziness.