Proud was never something I wanted to be. I usually just wanted to understand what I couldn’t, but then I found there were things more terrifying than I could handle. I can handle more than most. I enjoy a lot of macabre and often disgusting fare, but there are places I dare not tread in the human world. I am a snowflake as they say. I grew up in a very blessed environment with every advantage I could imagine. Even when I fell to being a broken man, I had a cradle to carry me because of the love of my ilk. However in all of these things, because of my upbringing and my tutelage throughout life, I gained pride. Is my pride deserved? That’s certainly a matter for a spectator, and the show is longer than it’s worth. However, pride is something I’ve had for a very long time. I’m proud of my family, my work, and even my struggles, but pride has never helped me. Pride is more of a weight I carry and try to protect. It’s why I shave. It’s why I keep myself up. It’s why I seem to care. If I didn’t the facade would break and everything would be the lie that I am. My talents are but tricks. My skills are but luck, and all of it together encapsulates the mess that I try to keep together every single day. For oh so long. I’ve never known why I’ve done anything. It started because I wanted to play music with my brother. Then people mentioned I should do things because I was good at them. That was never why I wanted to do things.