It's useless to explain what you've done; to attempt and make you understand is a waste of breath. I should have seen this coming. Years later you admitted it yourself. "My pen is a pistola." Well, you aimed true and your bullets found a home in me.

The change, the unstoppable metamorphis to follow... I blame only you. There is no other criminal in this act but yourself. What I was, what I believed and what I stood for all shattered, my precious aping crystal strewn over my soul like the billions of stars on the ebon heavens. You took all I deemed valuable and demolished it, until nothing but uncertainty and fear was left, forcing me to creat a foundation from an endless void.

You are the culprit. You, and only you, are who I hold accountable for obliterating the life I knew. Not a day goes by when I don't see the aberration present. I have no other road to follow but the one you've shown me, for no other option seems feasable now. To the end of my days, I must renounce to the familiar, to my comforts and on the path you wander.

You've erased all limitations, all my safe brick barriers brought down with a few words. There is a new standard by which I am measured now, one that exceeds my mind's understanding. I find myself, for the first time, insecure, terrified---

And alive.

(Thank you.)