We all go into a dark place sometimes, so dark that you can't shake the feeling that you've never left in the first place, that "there" has always been here...
Everything there seems more sinister, finding yourself right at home with the voices of doom. Just like love, hatred is blind. It doesn't discriminate. It's ruthless and chaotic, it leaves a trail of guilt and shame you can follow back to your inner cave.
Just because it comes to our awareness, the problem is not yet solved. You may know what is wrong, or that there is something wrong, as in really wrong. You bite your knuckles, you used to play with your ear not too long ago, and, as a kid, you were, like most at that age who have been raised by desperate moms. She did as best she could for a woman had been raised to be a trophy or a household wife. She did not go beyond forth grade, and moved from place to place as she still does to this day. You go from foster home to foster home to aunts' houses, and along the way you realize that there are good families out there, good fathers, good mothers. I just wanted lucky enough. I don't consider myself "unlucky", but there were nonetheless many unfortunate events that took place. If you focus long enough at madness in the face, you end up going crazy. Our natural instinct is to run for the hills.
I ran as far as the States. Ever since I was a kid, I always felt like there would be more to life than that of my world. And not that my world was small, it was actually pretty big, but never as big as New York. Not by a whole lot. Maybe it had something to do with reading Schopenhauer by the time I was sixteen.
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