I'm fanaticizing about doing a raindance in traffic. I'm fanaticizing about a storm to wash me away. If you'd study the laugh-lines, you'd see that I'm cracking. I spent six months now feeling like dead weight—the fighter in me must have died a long time ago. I must have been watching his ghost; just going through the motions, just putting on a face. It feels like 1929 and I'm on the verge of a great collapse today. Every window in this house faces a brick wall. I'm panicked and absent like a bird in a cage. The word from the front lines says that we're out-gunned but I can't walk away. No, I can't walk away. No, I can't. I was just happy to be a contender. I was just aching for anything. I used to have such steady hands, now I can't keep them from shaking.