When I was ten, my 5th grade teacher stared cheese-grater deep into me, spat words, and left. 'You think you know everything.' Eons later, the denouncement of my first mentor and role model bitterly kicks me closer than asunder. 'Cocky from conception,' may apt an epithet make, one day. Even now, as humility is seeking new depths in my gut, I smile a toothless smile, lick blood-thick lips, on hands and knees, stare up at the ceiling, at the ethers and anthelia... what bitch? what next. what else... no, that's mean. no, not nearly enough. Oh, Raistlin – but you wouldn't know what that means either. The hands, the life, the tongue; from writing, living, spitting sarcasm – stayed: for two reasons. One, things that, up 'til now, have impressed me, lack impression. And two, I am being pressed into a mold I am not fit to flesh out. I feel lost in this current thread of consciousness. Whatever this is, and what has been, are juxtaposed in such a blatant fashion... Still, nothing changes the fact that I have fallen from familiarity, unsetttled, it being 3am: listening to bon jovi with my soulmate eternally-breathed gently sleeping near.
Whosoever thrives in the privacy, whose words are careful, whose tongue is quick, may he continue in the balm of secrecy. For the strength of the empire stands on the ego of his morale: the quiet voice within, discerned... Thus have I been at my most formidable. The winds of change will swiftly overcome me, for I will allow it. For what is and has been essential lies heavy on my conscious. Time treks quickly in reflection, but the journey tarries long. Commit to change. I am as this. This S u r r e n d e r. This then, is Genesis Twinned.