I’m scaring myself with the idea of not having this. It’s silly really, because odds are that I most definitely will not. I’m scaring myself. I have such good feelings and such high expectations but how cannot I not recognize that these are typically my downfalls. The problem is, I don’t know how to treat this differently. It should seem that by now, I would have learned to stop holding my breath. And I want to, because it keeps me in constant intrigue, with constant adrenaline pumping through my veins, that or liquid, chemical foolishness. I’m scared because I’m acting strange and choking from the lack of air so much that it will not only be scary to me once I finally exhale. I need to stop, I need a break, but I don’t know how. Maybe when it fails, I can see that I cannot do this to myself. Maybe I need the bitter disappointment of it, one last ever-consumning time so that I can realize that this is all wrong of me to do.