What will they say about me when I'm dust, EB?
Will they call me what I am in my heart or will I be a monster?
Sometimes...I hate to say this because it's so narcissistic...it almost feels as though when I walk out that door for the last time this country will cease to exist.
What will they do without me, EB? Without my country? Who will rule when we are gone? Europe? The Chinese? They had to cheat at gymnastics.
We'll be fine, EB. They need us. The whole order falls apart without us...