"I am greateful for the bubble I grew up in.
I do admit it wasn't the best bubble, but it was my bubble, my home.
Through time, the bubble changed. It went from orange to pink, to blue; it became richer then poorer. But it fit me, it fit us.
In total honesty, that bubble was never mine to begin with. It was never theirs either. Somehow we found our way into the bubble, and just stayed there.
But now, I've become too big for the bubble. The bubble traps me, restrains me and I don't like it.
I've been trying to get out for years now, but somehow the bubble always imprisons me again. Sometimes, I don't even realize it. Sometimes, I can't even feel it.
But the bubble, oh, the bubble, it always wins.
A plan. I must come up with a plan. To escape, to run, to free myself from it.
I must burst the bubble. Break everything it represents, everything it stands for. I must say goodbye to my sphere of relations. My bubble, my blood, my foundations.
I must go now." And so the Prophet went.