Here's a confession, here's an admittance of weakness in a moment where I feel almost nigh-invincible, my Achilles heel, my kryptonite, ready, listen well - I can't fucking get into focus.
I know, I know, pivotal moment here, people all around me were getting their game faces on, horses revved up, leather reins gripped tight, I should also be falling along in line, shouldn't I?
Nope, no good… anytime I try to get my bearings, it'd be immediately whisked away from me by the sheer absurdity of this entire ordeal here. I don't know, I guess the prospect of playing both chauffeur and bodyguard to a couple of risque-looking body pillows in a rickety worn-down carriage while also going head-to-head with other like-minded individuals hadn't really sunk in yet.
Like, this was my life now… cleansing a catastrophic blood rain one day, carriage-racing in a jester getup the next. This was the linchpin, alright… my existence was essentially a punchline to a never-ending joke.
