To want to get something out, you've gotta have the balls to give something in first. And by giving away something, you've gotta know that you're risking it to be lost, non-refundable, but... till which point do you say to yourself, "Alright, stop, this is enough. You have nothing left to give away". And when that day arrives, I shall run away to a land far far away, hoping the heart will heal, some time, somehow, and by then, again, I'll give a part of it to another friend, another sister, another brother, another cousin, another child, another... human being. Give and give and give and give... and just hope for... world peace? What a hypocrite.
And when the chemicals finally kick in and you feel more relaxed, isn't that a good feeling? When the head feels so light your proprioception sense fails you. Now you know, those occasional amnesia episodes are okay, but you wish you could've chosen which memory to be lost instead of losing control of everything.
And finally, finally, you rest your head on a pillow, look at the ceiling filled with bright glow-in-the-dark figures. Put your orbicularis oculi in action and say goodbye to the world for a few hours. Tomorrow, a new journey shall start.