There is a self destruct button in me. It presents itself whenever I fear for too long, upsetting the equilibrium of my perfect little life. A voice surges forth challenging me to defy convention and destroy all that I call mine. It begs me to see if, beneath all the layers of sophistication and psychological bullshit, there is anything solid. I have been on journeys of unraveling all that I've painstakingly gathered as my own. But every single time that I have come close to cutting the last few threads between safety and free fall, I have recoiled. I think it is the fear of finding nothing but an endless abyss. Yet strangely I crave the silence of that boundless emptiness beyond the last layer of mortal cloth.