I prefer to think of it as living to a wandering metronome with a swung beat.

Existence is painful, leading one to obsessively contemplate whether the opposite - non-existence - would provide peace.

What can change the nature of a man?

Time. For with time grows regret and a desire for active atonement.

Who forgives self-betrayal?

His wounds healed quickly but the scars, all those countless internal and external scars, remained as ugly reminders of a pained existence that never got easier.

The most lonesome of all are those who refute their loneliness.

"You have something, I'm not sure what it is, but you definitely have something."
"Madness?"
"Yeah, that could be it."

"I really don't like you."
"Good."
"What?"
"Your contempt validates and reinforces my intrinsic self-loathing."
"Oh man, now my hatred is joined by pity."
"My inner masochist sincerely appreciates your condemnation."

The detachment from reality was nigh-complete. A parade of alien shapes and meaningless symbols flowed into his perception but there was never any connection, nothing relatable to the dysfunctional nightmare of his internal existence.

Passion, joy, motivation, confidence, energy; all retreated from the overwhelming forces of fear, doubt and pointlessness.