Observe me, here; presently, this humbled, shackled lump of skinless thought which, like branches, grows and reaches without master nor purpose. See how, anxious, head trapped beneath sour waves of forced expectation and spilt disappointments, how bitterly do I vomit incoherently myriad torments. White pages poisoned by my mediocrity and amateur, unpolished and coarsest vanities. Look you how I struggle thus, this insect wriggling angrily beneath the tightened, cracking grasp of my own hypocrisy. It chokes me. "Wretch! Villain!" cries the mirror, laughing out at me from a distant reality, teasing and grasping, slicing at my delicate reason. My mind has caught fire. Yet, how can I, inconsequential as I am, as humans are, presume to know pain? Oh, but I do. That growling, vicious beast who plagues our peace and turns our hearts sour as spoiled fruits in winter! Yes, many times has pain dined at my table, been my release and my disgrace. Pain-- that despised, unwelcome guest whose deeds nonetheless result in our humanity. Observe me now, this rumpled, shivering shell. Are you so very different than me?