I am, very much, lining up to be my name's sakes in truth. There is little left of who I was, once upon the long ago. The melancholy of it is this is all my own doing, every last piece. Brings to mind Nietche-
"Hope, in all reality, is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torment of man."
The brunt of it is, if I can not be guaranteed anonymity's promise and know what I say here cannot be used against me in a court of law, I can't speak about it here, either. My hope, as with everything else in my fucked up, wasted life, will most likely just be the continuance of my pain. I am desperate to end this misery, an animal in a led-hold trap, chewing off its own limb to get away.
Is what I say here admissable in a Canadian court of law? I don't even know.