Do you remember when you left Dread? Before all this, before BigBossChefOfArchetyp? You were gone for seven months. Seven months I waited, hoping that you wouldn't come back. Every month, I took a holiday. I went to Berlin, there's this bar, on the banks of Friedrichshain. Every fine evening, I'd sit there and order a beer. I had this fantasy, that I would look across the street and I'd see you there, with a Lamborghini and maybe a couple of femboys. You wouldn't say anything to me, nor me to you. But we both know that you'd made it, that you were happy. I never wanted you to come back to Dread. I always knew there was nothing here for you, except pain and tragedy. And I wanted something more for you than that. I still do.