"Shut out the world. Completely," the words whispered, echoed, and entered my ears as I sat at my kitchen table.

This is my life. This is what I've made of it. You can go back to a record of someone's life, and locate points such as "this is five years before her death, and at this point she does not know she will not be here in five years".

But five years ago, I knew. One year ago, I knew. And now, I know. Boy howdy, do I know.

What I've lived has been leading up to this. It has been by design. I've lived my life to scuttle my future potential and possibilities, my health, my prospects, all for this, to lead up to this last stretch. Faced with the last stretch, it's time for me to sprint. I haven't had an intimate in four years. I quit the band. I quit the job. It all fits together.

Time to pay dues. Shut out the world, disentwine me from the remaining people. I love them, but I loved the people in the past, too. This is more important. Maybe they'll understand, maybe they won't. Now get rid of everyone. Stop hanging out, stop socializing. Fade. Entwine no further. We have a date.