Me miserable! which way shall I flie 

 Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire? 

 Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell; 

 And in the lowest deep a lower deep 

 Still threatning to devour me opens wide, 

 To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav’n. 

 O then at last relent: is there no place 

 Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left? 

 None left but by submission; and that word 

 DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame 

 Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc’d 

 With other promises and other vaunts 

 Then to submit, boasting I could subdue 

 Th’ Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know 

 How dearly I abide that boast so vaine, 

 Under what torments inwardly I groane; 

 While they adore me on the Throne of Hell, 

 With Diadem and Scepter high advanc’d 

 The lower still I fall, onely Supream 

 In miserie; such joy Ambition findes.

“Red bottoms, Gucci perfume, LV purse… and pull-out couch and ramen noodles and bus rides… Broke hoe” - Hyghly Alleyne

(the sense of false satisfaction you get from saying you’re something instead of being that something, huh?)