[Episode 07]
[Shizuo Heiwajima and Ikebukuro]
He demolished a store and murdered a handful of people.
I rather admire those qualities. The inability to restrain destruction, to limit the unfathomable chaos of the universe, how futile it must be to prohibit actions, to remain sane- how, indeed.
When steel bends with a caress and a rational mind is scorched into trickling white ash, when days burn and eternities glitter in an abyss- in Ikebukuro, the universe, a night, six trillion years- a single title may not be enough.
Power forged through unimaginable horror and wrought of light, darkness, love- the human forces- I realize that Shizuo is controlling himself.
I, instead, follow the vicissitudes of shattered glass and inner wastelands, blistering turquoise and flames, and, for that, power beyond comprehension circulates within hell-tainted blood without restriction.
I have not sacrificed for this.
To sacrifice, one must possess the object or quality prior to surrender.
Sanity and normalcy were an internalized equilibrium instated within the populace from conception, and I, through fortune, was unbound from such constructed incarcerations.
The words sear into impressionable minds, and, insidious, begin their inevitable end, illuminating the sky with celestial darkness, whispering unto the shadows, and, simultaneously, accomplishing neither objective.
[The End]
