I think the bottle has become uncorked. I think I could have stopped it, but I know it wouldn't have worked. This slew of madness is about to unfold. I wonder if I can die young before I grow old. The darkness compounds frustration. The hate on which I feed will breed creation.
A new personality. A new vibe. A new rationality. A new tribe.
I will emerge from this cocoon better and more beautiful than I once was. Fly away, fly away from here.