There’s a place past burnt out… Waaaay past becoming the homeless vagrant that shouts “answer your telephone!” at migrating birds… Past hearing rushing water in your ears that is actually your blood pressure as you have a full blown meltdown because despite over a decade of hard work in a field you still struggled to make rent, car payment, insurance, and food, let alone a social life… There’s a place past the fight or flight of an extreme anxiety attack… It’s peaceful, bland, and frankly just existing in it fills you with an unspeakable rage. I live there, I have 1 thing, and 1 thing only to lose. My dogs. Anyone dares lay a finger on them and all hell breaks loose. I refuse to stay here. I’m making a cells for all those I will drag here by their short pube hairs. Burnt out is just a stage, if you want to keep living, it gets worse from here.