Have to keep my words close; keep them safe and succinct. So much has changed, but I can’t tell just how thoroughly. Maybe this ice age is reaching its twilight and we’re reading too far into the damage done - maybe there is still hope; maybe this is ridiculous. Expression is suicide, admittance: sure d**h. Granite to steel, familiar bookends to this chronically distorted heightened perceptive state. I hate this hell; this is weakness, this is forfeit.