This whole experience represents my relationship with my parents quite well, and is deserving of much analysis.

Later on, she brought her concerns to me, after trying to pick a fight, which is my parents way of saying, "I have something I want to talk about."

Much like a twelve year old.

Speculation:  mother does tap into lines of logic, maybe by accident, of certain ways I think, but I suspect its warped 180 degrees the wrong direction.

No, mother, I did not come here to die.

Point of fact, I would stay way the hell away from here.  Because I know that your fashion of nurturing is to bully, browbeat, manipulate, and pull whatever other trick you have in your bag into prodding me into living.

I would have stayed in the city, and found a way to die quickly and most painlessly.

I didn't understand what I was doing, in a concious sense, when I lit out of the city to come home. 

But what I was doing was chosing to live.

A last ditch effort, but a choice to live, nonetheless.

Had I not, I would be dead right now.

(Sometimes I feel like Billy Pilgrim, from Kurt Vonnegut's novel, 'Slaughterhouse Five', in the chapter where Billy is in the Veterans Hospital, with the blanket over his head, because his mother is visiting, and he feels guilty that she has striven so hard to give him life, and he in turn, doesn't like life, and doesn't want to live.

A while ago I suffered what I would diagnose as a moderate depressive episode.  I was moderately depressed, and I had to finally make a choice to live.  Perhaps, if not entirely related to the first time I got sick, the impermanence and unreliablity of the physical.

It was difficult. 

And in a stroke of genius, I engineered a plan, that regardless of future mental states, would guaruntee I would live on through it.

I decided that I could never hurt my family or friends in that manner, and the way to insulate myself against that possibility was to make many friends, and band them to my heart.

Now, as I have faltered, my strategy comes into employ.

In the past few weeks, I have received much love and support from my friends.  Phone calls, well wishes, emails, and a 'get well soon' card, that this loner never expected to get.

It touched me.  I have never received support like this in my lifetime.

I resolved to struggle on.  If only to go see them, and thank them.

Their kindness is great.  They will move my belongings into storage, until such time as I can retrieve them.

I live my life as I am, and never ask what's in it for me.

To get my love returned, makes me happy.)