time to bite down on your dread and eat your spleen: there is no salvation to come. the only option left to you is visceral effacement and forgetting what it was that made you hurt, only keeping what makes you bleed. eventually you'll get dizzy, lightheaded, and on the way to the grave at the very least you won't have much to think on. everything from here on out needs to be dry and stale: the more blood you lose, the more air you breathe, the more your fluids trickle out of your body, the better off you'll be. it is time for years long desiccation, for surrender of the spirit, for living as a crisp and brittle shell. the more brittle you are, the harder you'll be, and the more painless the eventual breaking will be if you don't have to bend and contort and suffer