BLEED THAT CRIPPLE DRY , BLOOD.
Everything is so random . The more you plan, the more fucked up everything gets. It's crazy when you stop and look around and realize how far you are from where you thought you would be . And you hold onto things-memories and objects that tie you to these memories. 'I can prove that really happened to me and not to someone else - no one else remembers but i have the ticket stub'. But what about those instances that even you've forgotten? It's like that tree falling in the woods when there is no one around to hear it. We are all ruled by chaos. No rewards. No consequences. Everything is fucking random.