i have lost track of my goal and it has made me weak. i have been stuffing myself like a pig. i am disgusting.
yesterday i lost control of my persona, shed tears in front of another. i can't slip up again. i must perfect my craft, for my sake, for his sake, for the sake of "us" - otherwise, all i have built will be lost. which is not to say that all i am is artificial, i am merely in the process of transformation, in the midst of modern alchemy, an adolescent exorcism. it is said that all of the metals wish to be gold, they lie waiting, just as the desert sits and waits to become a sea once more. i am not content with waiting, i must transform. i have already lived through putrefaction - purification, enlightenement and unification with the unlimited await.
and if it is impossible, i will pretend, and con them all.