For the years still ahead, aching to achieve, can you proceed enmirthed and jolly as you gracefully make your leave? Or will pangs of old uncertainty heave waves of manic sighs while depressive undertows keep your fears always alive? The mirror may scream obscenity or whisper doubt into your cheer with gloomy cover cast to dull the ways you hold yourself as dear, but don't let the voice you hear be an empty echo of the words that others crafted to appear as something more believable than a charlatan on the pier.