Words and ink

It is, I suppose, a particular kind of catharsis. The kind that lets me grasp my chest and squeeze the blood out of it and experience some sort of, well, exhilarating pain. Pain that feels like it could transcend my physical existence, my experience of being part of a society, and the limitations of being a human being. It’s a powerful form of escape, one that I fear when sober, but cling on to when desperate.