I’ve written so much and I’ve found nothing at the end of the tunnel: I’M NOT FIXED YET. I can keep spitting up but it’s going to just keep falling back onto my face. There’s nothing to be found in the same fucking words and the same repetitions. I can tell these stories a hundred times over but the morals will never change. I need someone to look over my shoulder – check my work – follow the lines I’ve drawn and scratch out my solutions. That’s the way to nirvana. Following someone else’s path.