I left after noon. I couldn't stand to be in this room with all my stagnant dreams and my constant decay. I felt out of place and burdened with thoughts of escape: do you know the weight of collapsing into yourself? I found somewhere to run off – Route 2, down a bit by the railroad. I walked for hours, kept the trail. You took my whole day away, Mt Misery. You made sense to me. I told no one. It was just us. Because when you're feeling low, you'll do anything to feel less alone. I thought I found a place I could call home. A safe space only I could define. A clear head and commiseration, where feeling low would feel just fine. Oh, how I wanted to climb! But Mt Misery was somewhere I couldn't find. I can't see the forest for the trees – I think your summit sits somewhere inside of me that I have yet to find, so I'll keep searching. Until I can climb, if I can find the time. And when I reach the top I'll find if I'll ever not feel alone, or if I'll ever be happy, or if I'll ever be allowed to descend.