At least I know myself. Exactly when, where, and how I'll break. Exactly how long I can hold out. Exactly how I'll come to terms with the whole thing. But it does make you wish that once, just once, you had the balls to go through with something drastic. Not so much to prove a point to anyone else. More as a way to exhale. You breathe in so much, hold in so much, that eventually it just sort of settles in there somewhere. You thought you were about to explode, thought you couldn't take it anymore, and just when you think it's about to blow, fissure and crack and explode, you manage to pack it in nicely, tidy things up, expand just enough to keep it inside.

I've got nothing to prove to anyone. It's myself that needs convincing.