The future is coming to wreck you, grind you down and reject you. No matter how much you do, no matter the standards you meet nor the accomplishments you accrue, nothing will stop it.

You will crack. You will be crushed. You will betray yourself, spread your legs, and face tomorrow cunt-first. You could crawl away at the last second, but your tortured little whore’s heart will always demand you stay and take what’s coming to you; that is, after all, the nature you’ve nurtured.

But don’t worry, my pretty little waste: I’ll be sitting here beside the track, waiting to play with the pieces of you that remain.