I look out the peek hole, how obscure; everything is so small on the other side of the ancient blue door. And with a world so dark you would think the light’s shining rays would be so eagerly compassionate to leak its way in. I would rather fight than hide, for all that has ever disclosed light unto my destiny, even still I remained blind. The past is sequencing me like a storybook that has already been written. Bitten into the forbidden fruit too many times, in excess—his stomach cannot muscle such atrocities, diagnosis him with food poisoning.

Recklessly disputing against my own words, desperately reaching for whatsoever crawls under my nose. Well, I suppose I have managed as you can see. In a panic somehow I was able to scavenge up a couple of good things. It is about time I pull my own weight, time is ticking, and nobody is waiting on you. Master fate your late, eternity does not hesitate ither, and I have steered off the path for quite awhile—opportunity, hope, trust in you—I am late, but do not make insinuations, do not count yourself out just yet. Have you forgotten who you are? Possibly so, I find the present as good as any to give myself another venture to demonstrate, moreover discover, just why I have been granted to come along solely for you, master of fate—ready, set, explosions.