This will not impress you. I can not impress upon you enough how much this will not impress you. Don't tell me what to think, you say. Don't tell me how to feel, you say. Don't try to control my emotions. Of course not, I say. I would never be so bold. Which is a goddamned lie and I know you know it. That is all I am ever trying to do. That is the entire point of this. Do not ever trust me. There are words and words every day in places far more respectable and celebrated than this for people who go about the searching of words. As I do. As you do. As we all do. These hallowed halls of textuality and of contextual duality and of high-minded, reverant consubstantiality. Where we feel we belong. Where we go searching for enlightenment and to hear opinions from writers we've taught ourselves to identify with and from whom we pull ideas like junk food from their bored and jaded beaks. I spend a lot of time in these places. I spend a lot of time appreciating these places. I spend a lot of time resenting these places.