I stared at the white ocean for days. An empty canvas, plotting my escape. It seemed to lure me into uncomfortable depths. I'm not shallow, but I do find myself staring in the mirror. Is it vain of me to appreciate my reflection? I'm begging to know, and yes the ink makes me see myself clearer. I paused as my thoughts began to implode. I slowly realized I'm still sinking. Instead of fighting for air, I'd rather enjoy this episode. What was I thinking? I knew the ending would be anticlimactic. 18 times in 11 lines is proof of a narcissist. Perfectly planned perfectionists and sly schematics.
A new series, a likable protagonist dying. What will happen next time on Dragon Ball... sorry if you don't get it.