I Don't Want This Life Anymore

Henry. Nowan writes, this solitude is not a private therapeutic place. It is the place of conversion, the place where the old self dies and the new self is born. In solitude, i get rid of my scaffolding. No friends to talk with, no telephone calls to make. Just me, naked, vul able, weak, sinful, deprived, broken, nothing. Anger and greed begin to show their ugly faces. I give long, hostile speeches to my enemies and dream lustful dreams in which i am wealthy, influential and very attractive,. or pour ugly and in need of immediate consolation. Man, i love how brutally honest is. Can anybody relate to this? Or is