angry, or it's never really over is it

I know it was my fault. I know the first crevasse was of my own making. But I built over it, a fragile wall of snow and paper and tears and ideas, put together piece by piece. All by myself. I finally depended on no one. I finally relied on no entirely destructive power.

I told you I built it to protect myself from you, and mostly from me. And now it seems that all you want is to break me, again.

How long, do you think, before you push me over the edge?


How's this for DIRECT? How's this for a message intended ENTIRELY for you?

There's something in that crevasse and it's pulsing and thrashing.