Fuck it, I’d be mad too. You’re here and they’re here and it’s gone. There’s less mystery to all of it than we’d like to admit. We’ve dressed these things up, a select few have worn them, and now there’s nakedness. The barn floor you were born on matters less. The experiences slapped on to yourself matter less. The color you’ve recklessly spilled or mousily plopped down matters less. Dress it back up or don’t, who cares. There’s no therapy session or meditative state or salvation here to tear you from you. Inspiring until it makes you heave. My March madness and inner wrestle mania went down hard. I preferred things on the sweeter side. A lychee slush to chase. Then it came up to embalm me for what’s left and yet. She crawled into that bedroom with a knife between her smiling teeth. We're all meant for each other as Travis says. You was who you was before you got here as the Jiggaman says. I felt that final seasonal cratering ages ago now. It stapled me away from you. I've talked so much about how what goes in always goes out. No more words on the topic. You should know, you bought it. There’s no reason to be upset if one can’t relate to two. But you’re mad and I would be too.