You see the train coming. You feel the tremor as tons of steel, or years of loneliness, bear down on you, down tracks traveled before, repeating a history you’re familiar with. Because you are secretly Wile E. Coyote, doomed to be failed by your own brain chemistry and that damned Acme Corporation.

But you stick it out, because you weren’t supposed to be here anyway. You’re a good person, you’ve told yourself. You learned from that history, vowed not to be the same, or stand in the same place.

But, here you are, on those tracks again, waiting to get hit, plastered to the spot, hoping that this time will be different.