โI am nothing, I am everything, and Iโm certainly never in between to two. Itโs stupid to think I could be anything other than me, miserable and birthed. Death to everyone who isnโt such things. What is the point of life if not to indulge every dreadfully mediocre sadness to its climax only to realize you have to get off a whole single file line of dreadfully mediocre sadnesses? Respite is only plausible in physicality. There is no escape from a self pitying and exhaustingly guilty mind. Hypocrisy after hypocrisy, I weave myself more securely into my mental web. No one gets in, no one gets out. Itโs the way I like it and the way I insurmountably loathe it, balanced by the progression of life itself.โ