Few Choices.

"There is something devastatingly wrong with me. There should be. That's the only explanation I can think of. I mean, after so long and after so many experiences, that's the only logical conclusion I can come to", he concluded.

The problem was not the fact that he didn't have the intention to change. He did. He has had it in him for such a long time now. He just didn't know where to start. Wherever he started, he always seemed to come back to the original spot. The spot he was running away from. The spot that was causing him so much anguish. He always he knew he could do better, but that's all he knew. He knew whatever it was he spent his time on was the soul cause of the state that he was in but he didn't any place else to visit. The created the problem, the problem was the only solution to his problem too, and with time, it only had its severity improved. He no longer knew who he was or where he was in association with his problem. He knew, however, that it is at the brink of getting out of his hands and that if he could do anything about it, the time to do that something would be now. This very moment, this very breath and this very second is all he has to do something about it. He knew he had to do something and that something can be anything but returning to the problem after miserably giving up on himself and his hope.

He clearly wants to not give up. But that's all he knows about his problem. "Dig deep, you really don't have other choices", he reminded himself.