How did I come to this?

I run into the seedy area of moldering old warehouses on aging piers where redevelopment has not yet come as if our version of The Docklands. There are no ultra modern chrome and plexiglass skyscrapers here. Only bums and the homeless and the mentally ill come here. I huddle in a moldering warehouse as night falls. I have a few granola bars stuffed into the pockets of my winter coat along with one water bottle. I huddle in a dark corner and listen to the sound of lapping water and the groan of old wood creaking as night darkens around me. I check my last computer battery. How did I come to this? I type into my private blog in leu of a conscience . How did I come to this?


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