oh, the misfortune of injustice.
you can spend your seconds hours days weeks months years decades centuries exaggeratively working hard on creating your hearts desire. but who's to say this robust creation is guaranteed? where is the warranty? where is the gift receipt? there is none.
for the most miniscule, insignificant action can easily and ever so effortlessly demolish your most hard earned achievements and dreams.
it's the heart-wrenching realism of reverse imperialism.
off to comic con i go, vainly attempting to have a better day.