Maybe I’ve dragged myself through the mud since then, but even mud hardens beneath your shoes. I must be standing on a mountain of it by now. And no one can touch me from way the hell up here.
You will eventually lose control, and when you do – when you lose every last shred of it until you can’t see red from black, right from wrong – I will be here. Ready to back you up, the way you should be doing for me.
