Every time someone would ask how they could pray for me, I’d always say the same thing;
I just don’t want this to be my life anymore.
That was the only plausible way out of this mess — that the Creator of The Heavens and The Earth have enough pity on me to slip me a get out of jail free card. Or better yet, let me exchange my life for a new one. (You either understand that level of suffering, or you don’t. I’m afraid, there is no in between.)