Well let me be the first to weigh in Mr. Fox. You're lost. Alcohol has you confused, yet I'll always be a friend to you.

Wtf. You're me. You don't count.

Are you sure?

It's hard to accept it. To live it, understand it, to live under the sun of it. I wasn't ready, honestly, to confront that. I recall 'I am Legend', the last guy alive and his dog, how he hit a golf ball off a listing air craft carrier, spoke into a radio and asked if anyone was even out there, alive at all. The city in the distance was lifeless, rotting, and so it seems am I these days.
There I said it. I'm still bowing before the instincts I just acknowledged are there. Is that wrong? I don't know anymore.