I.
Rain hits the roof and with a shattering bang, like a canon being fired, I am thrown back into reality


II.
Back into a world I have attempted to escape for so long. Into a gruesome realization that I am not unique.


III.
I am not witty or original. I am one of many in the loop, and how could I not let that define me? When in my final hours, as I face a hard truth, I shall have that realization alone and ask myself the final question; where shall I be born next.