I should've looked for help. I should've come home. But how? How could I look for help when I knew, when I knew in a darker realms of my mind that I didn't want to be helped? How could I come home when I knew, I knew in my grizzlied heart that I had no home? I could look, yes. I could go, sure. But for what? For nothing more than a closed hand and a locked door. No, I'd do it on my own. I'd do it on my own.
