People, do comment.

The anger is gone. I am not bartering with women, but myself

I legitimately hear two voices in my head battling for my mind.

One tells me I am free, be happy. The other laments over FAILED concepts and ideas I could not return to if I wanted. Even if the blue pill mind that is slowly dying wins, I would quickly see the red flags and run.

But, It's like walking in sludge.

The scotch has me feeling great tonight. While I'm not facing the inner struggle, give me some insight into your own 3rd stage of grieving the death of the "American Dream".