There’s this desire, this hunger, this greed. I don’t know exactly what I want. But I know that I want more. They say contentment begets inner peace. But I’ve traded my peace to this greed. That started when I drew consciousness from my pubertal thoughts. And that’s a long long time ago. I’ve never swam in a river. They say the surface is deceptive. That turbulent currents veil themselves underneath lingering to drown and take captive any sentient who dares, or maybe dares not, but falls prey to fate. But sister, why do I feel this turbulence inside of me? I think I’ve already fallen prey. And I’m already dead. And my surface is deceptive. I don’t know what I want. I just want more...
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