On my darker days I believe the hell I live in is my own mind. It's not really possible to escape it, though sometimes sleeping helps.
Luckily dark days are few and far between, and I get help. Medication helps, and when it occurs I tell myself it's not reality because, well, it isn't.
You can leave any time you're willing to stop calling us nasty names and accept our help. Or hell, even stop calling each-other nasty names and accept each-other's help. It's not like you're actually damned in any strictly metaphysical sense. It's just that you've got two primary tools, your intellects and your social abilities, your brains and your hearts, and you vilify the fuck out of both of them in favor of fists and fire!
