I'm going back on the road. I don't know where I am, don't care where I'm going. I need to get out. I'm sick of burns, I'm sick of atrophy, sick of looking at myself, but I don't really have any choice in the matter.
I'll just be some horrible looking fucker trying to escape this shit.
I'll write more when I figure out what I have to do, not that anyone's really reading nowadays. Whatever.
nothing matters anyway