I'm frustrated how I can put myself into a predicament that I cannot change. In too deep is an expression that I wish I have never experienced. I long to flee, but afraid to find no one waiting where I land. Like a spoiled child I crave for exactly what I want, no exceptions--a cardboard box is definitely not a stone castle, a lump of coal is definitely not a diamond. I grit my teeth as I struggle to walk forward chin deep in my own agony. There's no hope or antidote when the serpent strikes deep into the thin and fragile skin of naivete. I long to turn around and head back down into the quiet-deep-dark in hopes to rediscover the clamoring trumpet of consciousness...sleep is a relief...comfort is my mother rocking me in the cradle of her arms...pride is false dignity. Existence is a dungeon of despair. Love is a generic drug. Hope is placebo.