White flag go up already, I have little left to give. Recovery isn’t restful – It’s the work that gets done after realizing you’ve ignored yourself too long. It is hell, and being the God of my own body it is difficult to find followers – like holy war inside my cells, heart, blood, synapses.

My body adapted like the world adapts to global warming – I have melted these ice caps too long.

The flood won’t be stopped
The casualties won’t be saved
There’s nothing more I can do

I cannot transplant the brain of an athlete, or a healthy, optimistic being meditating daily, feeling “Zen”. I’m a fighter, resolver, feeler, even masochist.

My anger is not yet quenched
My tears not yet quieted
My hurt not yet healed

I seek solutions outside of what I have pondered. My thoughts are too dangerous, my fire too hungry to be abated.

I can be made tranquil much like unbending magi in fantasy. All dreams will shut down, I will feel nothing but peace – The burden will be erased.

White flag now raised, I am ready for an intervention.

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