I once felt I had control of reality, then I realised it was just the same all the time.
Every single night, the same arrangement, I went out to fight the fight. I felt this strange enstrangement. Nothing here was real. Nothing here was right. I was just making shows of trading blows, just hoping no one knows, that I was going through the motions, walking through the part.
It seemed as if nothing could penetrate my heart. Whereas I have previously been brave and righteous, I just found myself wavering. It just doesn't mean a thing.