Without Me

A loud return, as if they kicked the studio door down. There's audacity, energy, and a faint smell of gasoline in the air from the words that flare up like a match struck against a sole. It's as if the world has received another dose of the chaos it missed so much. Everything around is spinning at the edge of too fast, too sharply, too vividly. Every line is a mockery of order, a challenge to decency and boredom. Here, you don't apologize or ask for permission. They just walk in, pat you on the shoulder, and remind you who's actually running this party. The air is buzzing with self-assurance, and the smile is a warning: the show has started, and you can't turn it off now.