• And this is the transit, point where my world doesn't consume itself so much anymore. How colorful... I can handle my demons now, maybe something clicked yesterday, something you said, and I think it all makes sense... This is the point when it all comes together, and forces my hand again, you force my hand all the time. I don't mind, hell, in fact I love it. I don't know why... It's funny. It's so overwhellming, totally ripping me apart. But I still don't know what I'm meant to say, like any of really matters, I don't know anymore, I just don't have a fucking clue. So I have found a purpose but that doesn't help, not when you can't achieve your purpose... Movements in Black... And then in White.

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