It is not easy being a perfectionist. You add subtract multiply and divide. Then you hit the divide by zero error. The more you try for specificity, the more you are enticed by the beauty of the generic. It takes on your head like an incurable plague of ideas waiting to be sat upon and hatched - then it won't hatch. I have been called a many things, but perfectionist is not one of them.
Maybe you are not a perfectionist?
See, that is not the point. And, it is not yet time for you to speak. These are rhetorics.
Okies, go on.
So, I think and find out a way out of this. But like I said before, it's like going around in circles. Then I come up with a great idea - suicide.
I believe you will tell me when it's time for me to make a comment.
Yes, I will tell you. So, suicide. It is a wonderful idea - ending it all, the cadence. You taking control of the composition, the time to put the curtains, so once I proclaim my stand to the people, once I made my point, amidst the applause, I shoot myself on the head. That would certainly make a grand scene. Even if I get them to believe me otherwise, it won't stand. But, with this it's going to be a cracker. They would have no other choice to follow me. They will be divided in their paths, but all the roads will lead to me.
Ideally, you would no longer be there to follow. So maybe you should think of a more subtle and realistic alternative.
It's already decided in my head, my friend. You wouldn't understand such a complex plot. Maybe that's why I am The President and you are someone who can never even dream to leave this room. And for a mirror, you are such a lousy reflection of myself.
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