He collapses on the eighth of July. He collapses on the eighth of July and he knew it was bound to happen. Yet it still felt like he crashed into the summer heat, the winter's frigidity and the thousands of stars, all at once.
Keith learns that living alone in the desert had killed him slowly and that material things could not fix him.
(you're supposed to drag me away from this)
If he knew himself a little bit more, if he had learned to love himself just enough not to be disgusted by the very sight of his body and mind, then maybe, just maybe, this story wouldn't have been told. But far be it from him to deviate the course of time. If it had to happen like that, then it would happen like that. That's what he told himself at least.