It is illogical, it is improbable, it is impossible, all afterthoughts following diseased filled thoughts. Yet, is it not through the illogical improbability of an impossibility that I am here now? Perhaps foolishness is directing me, but then again, perhaps not. The sudden outbursts of emotion leave me drained, and I am utterly disgusted. I refuse to blend in with the blandness, I am too accustomed to the difference. Though I have no proof, only weary facts and an odd feeling, I can't help but feel, right. There should be nothing left, nothing at all, only the right state of mind. I am tired of the pangs, the wonder, just show me what I need to see, let me see to understand. For as of now, all I see is a shroud of uncertainty, you are laced with it, you cannot hide it.
Conclusion: I refuse to have it happen to me, I have worked too hard. Nothing will be missed under my keen gaze, nothing will go unchecked. The walls that were once structured, and strong have been taken down piece by piece, revealing my true nature. Yet at the slightest indication, it can be rebuilt, brick by brick, I will not be tormented. If by now, the battle is not yet won, then I fear the worst, that I might have to begin now.
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