Sometimes It Helps To Type These Things Out.

Truth is relative.
Print the legend.
Reality is malleable.
Grin when you say it.
Why is it so easy to look at someone else's life and say,
"I can solve all your problems in 3 easy steps..."
Is it a matter of being bold?
Of knowing what you want?
How many people do you have to hurt until you're happy?
What's the toll?
When does the shoe drop?
Shapeshifter, changeling...
Locked boxes, sealed containers...
Different personalities for different circles...
Relax at your own risk.
Smile and smile and smile...and be a villain.
Write your little poems.
Slivers, splinters...
You don't even know who you are anymore?
Which of these people do you want to be?
Do you even like any of your variations?
Ideas, attitudes, secrets, opinions, thoughts, lies, all gray.
When did it all get so fucking gray?
Composite.
Clone.
Make yourself nice and sharp - and cut as many people as you can.
You're fucking up. You're letting yourself fuck up.
Weak. Weak sauce.
You're going to let yourself make all the same mistakes.
And if you do that, you deserve exactly what you get.
The Wheel doesn't turn for people who slink around like you do...
Weasels and liars and shadows and weak-willed, wishy-washy tooth wigglers...
You're fucking up.
Actually, you're on the cusp of not just fucking up but of repeating all the patterns that have left you with nothing...that have ruined you.
And I don't plan on just fucking standing around and letting that happen, fucker.
This next part will be painful.
And you will be left with some scars.
But you will bleed and you will look up and thank me.
You are fucking up, Josh Geoghagan....and when you do that, the blast radius takes out a lot of people....
I'm cutting the blue wire.....all the blue wires....we will not be fucking up like this anymore....
It's done.
It's over.
You know.
You wrote.
You put it here for people to read.
It's done.
You will not fuck this up.
I deny you that ability.