Oh the trifles of my past, how they bore me now.

The pangs of despised love now show as cosmetic flaws on a distant time. Meaningless.
The horrendous psychological turmoils are but misunderstandings in a forum so long reformed.
Violent physical conquest is nothing more than the means to the ends.
I am the result. My troubles are the impassable barriers of an apocalypse unknown.

I live to be who I am today, despise who I was yesterday, fear who I will be tomorrow.