You can’t handle why

**cue deep voice**

Oh, I regret my past. If I could only give you a window into my mind, into my heart, blackened by pain, anger and the elusive mistress known as vengeance. Your supposed pure heart couldn't take the metaphorical beating, though. You want to know who I am, you want to know my intentions, but heaven help your soul for even asking.

Am I an idiot? The world would that I were. A brazen idot is a danger. A subtle individual with more than a grain of knowledge wields the power of complete destruction. Believe me, I wish I were an idiot, that I could live my life in ignorance, wipe my mind of the agony that others have caused me, or live out my days in sorrow, in solitude. You call me lazy; I laugh at your ignorance, but secretly desire to actualize your false accusation. It would save the world from the future I envision, from the future I intend to realize.

So, to answer your initial question, your challenge as it were, written in haste, in passion, your burning ember turned to ash and blown away as soon as it hits the cold winds of truth, I'm reading this challenge because I read everything. I notice everything. I internalize everything that everyone says, and—lamina by lamina—I silently lay my plans. Oh yes, even this flippantly published challenge adds fire to the flames that will one day consume you.

Am I idle? No, just unnoticed.

Do I have no other assigned job? I'll rephrase by saying I have no other objective.

What are the benefits of visiting this site? That is for you to know soon enough. Patience, my hot headed one.

Do I want to introduce myself to the world?

Yes.

And I will indeed take to the streets.

Yours included.