Fold me down to my smallest subunit. Compress and distill me until you obtain the bite-sized tagline that you agree with
To truly know me would take a lifetime, and we can hardly spare a minute so I’ll save you the trouble I’ll send you the spoilers, the spark notes, and the synopsis
You’d rather fast-forward through the pain You’d rather edit out the uncomfortable parts Let’s trim the lengthy bits so it’s more aesthetically pleasing.
But if all growth occurs in pain, then what is left in perpetual pleasure?
And what will the narrator do, when there is no more story left to tell.