Weeks are turning into months, I can no longer deny.
I had thought a change in the battleground would make a difference, but the thrill of the chase is still waning.
Some things are constant despite location. Snuff shall never be as good as a pipe, but even that loses its flavor in time. Cigarettes are ten a penny, and drink has never been satisfying.
Worst of all is the cocaine—never a relief, and always a reminder that nothing at all can save me from a fate worse than stagnation.
All that remains is to conclusively determine my fate.
A/N: Looks like things are coming to a head...