SPENT...

He's at the end of the line. He cant take no more. He is literally going through Hell but it's so dark no one can see him. His problems are "small fish." He's outweighed by "bigger problems." He's going insane. He feels the drill gun boring through his temples. He feels the sharp, intense pain in his back; in his chest. He can't say what he needs to because he doesn't have his own. He needs to escape. He can't go on. He wants to stop. He wants to end all this shit once and for all. He's crazy. He has SOMETHING wrong with him. He's taken up and down high and low. His words are miscomprehended. He wont take his own life but he welcomes death with open arms. Sweet release. He's free.