As surely as I am writing this now, as I grind my teeth in protest of the coming sunrise, as I grasp feeblely for the next word to write, I have absolutely no clue why I am writing in this little box again. I am unsure why I have walked to into my dusty cornors and picked up this mask, this heavy ceramic Persona. It's been so long since I've worn it, hidden in it...maybe I miss the false sense of power it entitled me to. For whatever reason, I have decided to hold it to my stained face once again.

So let the sun shine in and burn away everything in this barren land. The prince is in his streetlight coffin.

Destroy Once Done