A dystopian daydream has crept into my night, and my night has become day. As the sleepless hours strip away the bonds of reality, I can see the fabric of society begin to unravel. Peeling away like the skin of an apple in the hands of a chef with a sharp blade, that skin is my security, and it falls to the floor.
Exposed and bare now, I oxidize and begin to change. In whose hands do I place myself now? Left alone, I’ll brown, wither, and rot. But maybe this peeling away is how I’m transformed.
Optimism and cynicism: my eternal companions, my two wolves, forever at war. Which wolf will I feed?
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