Please give me another chance! Anything but this, please God anything but this again. Anything. Please I don't want to, I can't, go on with this. I know I've screwed up; I've lied, hurt, stolen, I've tortured my body, I have neglected myself, my life, my potential, my existence. But this? This punishment? It is too cruel, it is inhumane, it is an inglorious self-destruction I cannot abide. So please, give me another chance. Please? Oh god I can't stop it. My chest! Every muscle contracts. I cannot breathe, this iron band around me cinches tighter. Stretch! Break it! My arms, my arms are leaden weights, my legs are weak. I am as a newborn calf, and I stumble. What? Did the lights flicker? I can't focus. My head is spinning. I'm gasping for air as my anxiety holding my head under water, bubbles break the surface but I cannot breathe. My heart beats it's fists against it's bony prison; it pounds, it vents, it stops, it starts. I stumble towards my bag, my medication, my savior, my hero. The taste is sweet and chalky, this escape. The grit on the back of my teeth as it dissolves is so familiar, so real, so distant. How long? How long do I have to wait, or how long _can_ I wait? Is this it? Is this how they will find me, slumped over clutching an empty pill bottle, the ground littered by it's tiny white contents? Is this how they will find me, with a frozen look of terror, an expression that says "I told you! I told you It wasn't anxiety! I told you I wasn't crazy! I told you! YOU DIDN'T LISTEN! NO ONE LISTENED!" No, this is not how it ends. I steady myself. Still alive, but why? I'll see you again tomorrow, old friend.
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