I am tired of myself tonight. I should like to be somebody else.

Fuck me, I'm falling apart

I’m pretty much fucked. That’s my considered opinion. Fucked.

I was weak and pathetic and I couldn't control myself. An explanation, especially a bullshit one, doesn't alter the circumstances. I need to change, I have to change, and at this point, change is my only option, unless I am ready to die. All that matters is that I make myself something else and someone else for the future.

That is how I would have acted before my accident, but now my personal history had become unimportant. It had stopped being history and was once more becoming a legend, a search, an adventure, a journey into and away from myself. I was once more in a time which the things around me were changing and that is how I wanted it to be for the rest of my days.

I discovered that I am tired of being a person. Not just tired of being the person I was, but any person at all

I'm sick to death of this particular self. I want another.

Cause what the hell is wrong with expressing yourself, trying to be me?

The self requires a story.

This is who the fuck I am.

[I realized] I can’t tell your story, I can only tell mine. I can’t be you, I can only be me.

This is a story of what I was, not what I am.