Current mood:	anxious
Current music:	Billy Ocean - Loverboy

Epiphany
Inhale. Exhale. I feel the poison swirl around my head, it seems majestic yet frantic, as if trying to make the most of it's short life in the atmosphere. Soon I will have to decide on what i want to be when i grow up. That sounds silly, I'm only eighteen, but I feel grown up anyway - so it's weird to hear myself say "when i grow up.". I never really thought about it, to be honest. As an adolescent I just figured I would become an assassin and take out marks for about $20,000 a head. Purchase a suppressed .50 calibre sniper rifle and a pair of nine-millimeter berettas from some faceless people, rid myself of all human compassion, next thing you know, I'm set. My coiled hands around this firearm are lethal. One day I would eventually get setup by a false contract, gunned down by some tactical unit, and the only thing that would matter is the copy of "Catcher in the Rye" clutched within my bloody hands. Do you ever desire to become legendary? How would you go about achieving such a thing? If you commited suicide, would you leave a note? If so, what would it consist of? Think deeply about that one. My heart is racing, but my mind is dull. An unstoppable force trapped within an incapable form. I am a human caterpillar, waiting in my cocoon, anxious to reveal my new fantastic form, but a spider has wrapped a web around my shell. I can't break the shell. The shell is breaking me. I need to escape this darkness that I have become so familiar with.