My legs are turning into jelly, I feel a warmpth I haven't felt in a while, though I also feel extremely weak. I am stuck in a place that does not favor my existence, in some ways tries to terminate in the same way that immune 
cells do. Bubble towns are hiveminds, everyone knows everyone's business. There's no escape once when one of the T-cells have found your little secret. In this way, my existence hangs on a balance, if I break formation from how I 
walk, how I talk, how I communicate. I get shunned, casted out. My mind is already a house of cards for which any small wind will tumble. The voices already give me a hard time mentally, they don't go away, they don't stop, they 
exist in the same motions I do, reading the situation in different contexts and commenting on it. Telling me that the path forward reaps no rewards, or that my existence is a fault and that I must return to how I once was. But one 
voice stands out, The Soul. It's the closest thing I can get to how I feel at my core, the least affected by the censors of the mind. I see it in the mirror, in my eyes. In that sense I know what it thinks as long with it knowing 
what I think. We are one in the same, just existing in different contextual manners. I am merely the compositor for which my mood and contextual flavors sway. Everything will eventually fall into place, this traumatic response will 
be lifted, I will become whole again, soon enough.

College is tomorrow and I hope that I don't need a helping of charcoal after the new pho place I went to. Seems up to code, doesn't change my feelings though.

What is "Cattop"? Cattop is dialetical.