Midlife Crisis.

[James Joseph Page.]

...

Didn't think I'd be alive up until this point. The years drag on, and the older I get, and the more I feel grateful that I've lasted. I've outlasted my demons, my doubts, my hate...

...

I've outlasted my enemies to a point. But I've lasted, and in spite of it all, I'm here taking control of the driver's wheel and guiding my life down a path I can feel content with.

And I fucking hate it.

I hate this feeling as if I've done all of this and I'm still - how do I describe it? Unsatiated? Unfulfilled? Bored? Who gets bored of never having to hurt themselves? Content at the fact of never having 20 stitches over your right brow trying to close a gash; Going blind in your eye after the beatings you've taken; The feeling of never being able to put on a shirt because your neck's mashed together and holding on for dear life. I should be happy I can take warm showers now not that the throbbing and the pain's stopped. I should be happy that I can remember my birthday; The confusion if I walked my cat or not, or if it makes it the first or third time during the day. 

I should be glad about the fact that whenever I go to the bathroom, I don't look down and see blood.

...

...

...

What more could I possibly ask for in my life? I feel...content. 

And I don't wanna feel like that anymore. I'm old, I'm bored, and I want one more thrill. And I'm gonna do it...

Until I'm Satisfied.