You ever wake up in the morning and have about five things wrong with you, but you just lay in the bed (or whatever you use to make a bed) staring out into the grainy space in your dark room and try to figure out which problem to deal with first? Such as: should I go to the bathroom first before I get nervous about having not paid rent or should I put socks on now before I touch the floor cause it’s cold and I can’t afford to get sick? – well the General woke up this way every morning. And his days were long agonies into the depths of his innumerable problems, with no end in sight no meaning no tags no order. Riddles that could not be solved. How is it possible to continue living when you actually do know the outcome of what it is you are doing. You don’t know what it means, but you know how it’s going to end. I ask you: How is it possible? How can it be that every fear does come to fruition, but the harm, the pain can’t and won’t go away? The cruelty in the room alone was breaking his very will to move, think, or breathe. His feelings, his imagination. And he always thought he was tough. But a tough person is just a supersensitive person inside out. The world – or at least their system in it – didn’t care if you were tough. It was more interested in what you were willing to give up.
— from “Where Ladybugs Go to Die” by Dennis Leroy Kangalee, (c) 2006