Spider in a shoebox.

Is it worth it now, little spider? Alone in your shoebox, is it worth it now? You’ve abandoned your only friend, turned against him - sold him to the highest bidder. Your first companion, who sought you out, befriended you when no one else would, allowed you a place in his home as if you were his brother. And you let him them carry him away.

And for what? For the sake of your own ego, the sake of your own foolish pride, a bitter rivalry that will end in only loss and solitude. You dare not defend him, even when you knew they were wrong, you dare not act against their lies; instead you sought only to enhance their veil of deceit, to increase your own status, your own wealth. Betrayed the only one who even considered you, stabbed him in the back, knifed him in the neck, kicked him in the teeth - just to be in the company of those wretched snobs. He offered you a chance, granted you the gift of his companionship, gave you a place you could go - and you betrayed him. What do you think about, when you sit there quietly, alone, in your cold shoebox? What do you think about? Do his screams, as he was dragged off into the night, still echo in your mind? His gaunt face and his wide eyes filled with disgust, do they still haunt your nightmares?

You took my kindness for weakness, and for this you will pay. I will crush you like the bug that you are.

Speed & solitude.

It's all about speed here, time is money, keep walking walking walking and don't look back and don't apologise. Who do we, the Great Leaders of Tomorrow, what do we have to apologise for? We can do what we want, surely? Destroy what we want, fuck who we want, mistreat who we want, create the mess we want. Someone else is going to come and clean it up, born and raised for the job, someone always does. We have Greater things to concern ourselves about, keep walking lads keep walking and crushing their pretty flowers.

Speed. Time. Money. The weak get left behind, unable to keep up with our lightning fast pace. Who needs friendship? Who the fuck cares? It's all about speed. We have a purpose to fulfil, and we must carry out through with this Great Journey with fantastic speed or else - or else we'll be late and God forbid if we're late! God forbid I should remember those who helped me obtain this position! God forbid I should express consideration or gratitude! God forbid I should stay and wait and slow my pace for my friends! God forbid if I should have regrets, if I should show remorse for the weak, the less fortunate! God forbid if I should lower myself to such a lowly level! I'm just looking out for number one. The big one, the great one, the fast cars, the tinted windows, the latest technology and the best toys and we've long stopped believing and hoping and dreaming. Sheer and absolute greed drives, drives, drives us and we're going straight ahead with the greatest of speed.

Alone in your room. A spider in a shoebox. Is it worth it now? Or is the pay off yet to come? Don't you yearn to be out there, in the haze and the speed and the obscurity and the carelessness? Get lost and disappear. Destined for greater things. Passing the time or is there a purpose? The hardship is approaching. This is when it all comes crashing down.

Except I still remember, but do I honestly think remembrance will save me now? Nothing, nothing can save you, clutch on to what you have in hope, and please stay, stay with me, keep your face turned to me and oh come close and keep me warm but no no don't stray you are all I need but don't go to him I can't even bear to even look - look at his beautiful face. His beautiful, pretty face. And I'm playing with myself, what do you care, back in your Castle with your beautiful prince who I can't possibly compare to, who's far far far better than I am in every possible aspect. Who cares if he mistreats you, disregards you, cares not for you, and who cares if I'm the man that truly loves you and would die for you. Who cares?

I looked in the mirror, an endeavour I otherwise despise, but it was necessary. It was important to determine the damage the cruelness of my condition has had on me, to inspect the severity of the transformation. I expected to look as cold and as old as I feel. I looked in the mirror.

I saw no reflection.

Gigantic loud mouth.

Lady Harlot was not her usual loud-mouthed, overly-energetic self today, oh no indeed. She seemed tired, weary, with dark bags under her eyes, and the eyes themselves displayed a trouble, waning soul. The eyes of someone who has come to the end, the brink, to the edge of the abyss, looked down at the infinite, consuming darkness and has been struck by regret. Oh, I know not what troubles Lady Harlot, but I will not pretend it does not satisfy me infinitely. Lady Harlot with all her arrogance and self-conceit, to see her so defeated! Ha!

It fulfils me. Is it wrong for me to derive such childlike joy from whatever troubles her? Is it immoral? Could I have misunderstood her intentions in the first place? Is her suffering more catastrophic than I understand, more important than our pathetic rivalry? Possibly, but I won't let such thoughts plight my conscience. The fact is, Lady Harlot dared to challenge me, and now is suffering the implications of such a farcical course of action. She was foolish to even attempt.

Looked down at the abyss and had second thoughts. Silly girl with her doubts and reluctance.

Observe, as I jump.