Illiteracy is a talking point if you read into it

There's nothing at the end of the road except for pretty girls with prescription pills. Everything stops and stays stagnant. Still. There's not another street, just hazey grey pavement. There's no such thing as bereavement. I face the fog or crash my car. That's all there ever was. Would you like me better wrapped around a tree or if I have nothing left of me? Should I become a mangled mess or let there be nothing left. There used to be a third option, but that was before me. Before I could walk or talk or laugh or see. Death or derangement, what suits me? Should I sit here and wait, until it's too little too late? Dream or Destroy. What am I? Let's pass under or over or through, just let me out. I can't get you out of my head without losing. Which is more important? A body for pleasure or a mind for pain? Why can't I just be the same as you or her or him or them? If he set me up to fail, couldn't he have made it easier for you? I should have known God would be so cruel.