It's all going to collapse soon ... it's all been leading up to this moment ... the culmination of all my works, actions, decisions are about to come to fruition, that is, its self-destruction. For a person so unskilled in the art of fire-breathing to play so casually with fire is certainly folly to anyone with half a fucking brain.
Why couldn't I see the writings on the wall? They all glaringly pointed to a spectacular demise, one unseen since Lucifer's descent into the eternal darkness.
Part of me wishes that these fragile supports that still suspend me in the air would just give way already so I'd be able to feel the full fury of freefall, unhindered. That I may hit the cold, hard ground and finally begin my real life, unabated by these present spectres that haunt me so.
But, alas, I must wait. The seconds, minutes, hours, and days pass by agonizingly. A strange and pathetic limbo, neither in Hell proper nor anywhere close to salvation. It is here that I sit, on the top of the hill in my roller coaster, awaiting, powerless.
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