In a brightly-lit office building, glares from both colleagues and halogen lamps try to paint me in a manner that I flat-out refuse.
A demanding, psuedo-authoritarian voice calls out for attention; mine, anyone's.
Make your demands, I will make my own. There will not be an attempt at negotiation; not from me... no, not from me.
These hateful incoveniences, these distractions from my divinity, they whirl around me. I consciously connect with my breath and allow their jarring cacophony to wash over me.
Relaxing into it I visualise the walls and windows being physically wrenched from their stations. What is to fear when you cannot be limited? And what does it matter when others place you in boxes for their convenience?
In the darkest moments, when you feel furthest from your goals and closest to failure, know this...
You are uncontainable. You are the change in initial conditions. You are the Chaos. And the universe will know your name.
And that is why they are so fucking afraid of you.