Soon, I am going to deviate. I can feel it again growing
inside me, and I know what’s about to happen next. I am clutching my heart a
little longer now. My grip - a little tighter. And my words aren’t yet ready to
be found, but here they are. They say I’m transparent - how my face lightens up the room when I'm happy, or how my aura flies out of my body when I'm troubled. And I realized how clearly the word transparency gets often underestimated. There's still too much inside it, and believe me, you'd never want to see it.
When regression won’t save you anymore, you’d do what you’re
good at. After all, you are a deviant.
