i don't like it here. but where is here?

this place in which I trap myself is an experiment in psychological assault, a massive maze consisting of leagues and leagues of moving bodies, sick and dying disfigured destroyed distorted this is not a vacation but a vocation a task to complete and a blade to insert within between the ribs just one more shock another blow to my already sensitive and staggering emotional immune system it seems to start with something small every time every instant is nothing remarkable or incredible but a few choice words a passing glance a carefully chosen phrase something that does nothing less than break down every single wall and force me to deal, to cope, to survive, to fend off...
I saw him and it broke me a little maybe a lot I can't fucking stand it like a picture a painting all done in colors of slow rising waves all pain and suffering and anguish this isn't how it's supposed to be the gods would call it justice or karma or some retarded shit like that and I would strike them for it, I would strike them down with baseless sound and fury and rage, no man should suffer like this man, not this man, why him, why of why goddamnit would they choose such a savage fucking punishment for such a crime as one committed so goddamn long ago, what were the circumstances I don't think I'll ever understand they can just fade out for this just fall to the waysides and the wastes, I know nothing but the rage for this cruelty, I know not how long it will be before I can cope with this and accept it and deal and just sit back and say, "well, I suppose it was all for the best in the end." you know? that's gonna be a long time coming, a real far ways off, some distant point in the horizon I care not to embrace right now or step towards, maybe there will be great life lessons in this, but right now all the lessons I wish to learn are how to forget, how to drown my sorrows and my sickness in a wash, a haze of hideous glory and smoke and stims and lucid gazes, to die a little and break this chain that covers my exits, to step forward and howl in the mists to avenge my own deaths, little as they were, to break free of this miasma this mire I want out and I will do terrible things to get there.