I am at my breaking point.
I just need someone to pull me out.
Escape theories. Avoidance mechanisms. Loosely translated as submerging myself in the fantasy world. It's the only thing that keeps me sane. I am this close to snapping like a rubber band.
One day I am going to buy a large house and I will be the only one living there. One person in a big house might seem a bit out of sorts for you, but trust me, it's the only way I can survive. I need space and peace and quiet, and the only time I will break that silence is when I play music on this turntable in the library. Then I will settled down on the couch, with a glass of red wine or whiskey or scotch or bourbon and I will pick up a book and read while Time to Say Goodbye is playing in the background. And I will feel calm and at peace and I will not want to leave the house ever.
It's very likely that none of you who are my friends will ever get an invitation to my house, current or future. It's not personal; it's just that I am very possessive and territorial and I don't like people enroaching on my territory. In this future scenario, I will most likely become a recluse and will probably never marry. As a result, I will die alone.
The morbidity of my thoughts signify how close I am to loosing control.
And that's something I'd rather not experience.