Awake at this time of the night.

Once more.

I can't put my finger on the Merchant of Venice essay. Got a few points down, just can't seem to string them all together coherently. Just had a tutorial on "Paul's Case" today by Willa Cather. It's about escapism. Running away from the stifling mundane life of the middle class. In our context, the railroad track of life, preset, predestined, unchangeable. Routine. And dear Paul struggles so much. Running away, from life, from us the reader, lastly out onto the tracks of an oncoming train away from the author. He falls back into the grand design of things.

Just hit me that's all.

Very many things have gone wrong. I've become afraid. I seem to be become the thing that I most detest. Again. Always been this way. I just sink away into my own oblivion when the mind-numbing words hit me, they connect, and part of me just fizzles away, all that circuitry fucked.

I want to stop. And take a check. If I can stop my garbled thoughts from going into involuntary flashback mode. It just hits me at the worst times. And they just keep coming back. All those memories. Oh what have I done to make them so? They just haunt me, and haunt me. Where is that little prison that dark memories, secrets and pain goes? Let me in there.