That night, I felt an intense amount of grief and restlessness. Peace of mind was nowhere to be found. I felt distinctly agitated, but when I asked myself why, my mind wouldn't answer. The agony of it was quite unbearable. The worst part about it was that it was all self-inflicted. Like a sort of perverse masochist, I whipped myself again, and again, and again. My back was now bleeding, but I was beyond caring. I calmly paused for a while in between the whipping to smoke a cigarette every fifteen minutes or so. It added up to a lot of cigarettes.