solitude.

The world is a hypocrite and you are not any better. You will have blood on your hands and you will wipe it on your face to prove your worth. You will not feel any better, however. You will take your own disappointments and engrave your frustrations on your skin. You will suffocate on your smoke of fears and doubts. You will feel miserable. You will crawl back into a dark hole where nothingness is your only solitude.