Change. It's inevitable. People throw that word around like it's this profound truth, like just saying it somehow makes you wise or enlightened. But no one ever tells you the real truth about it. Change isn't gradual. It doesn't arrive politely, knock on the door, and ask if it can stay for dinner. It kicks the door down, takes a seat at your table, and forces you to deal with its chaos. And the worst part? You don't even realize it's happening until it's too late.

And then there's this...itch I can't shake. This gnawing hunger for something more, something bigger. I want to tear everything down just to see if I can build it back up again. To prove to myself that I have the power to change the rules of this place. To remind them all that nothing, no tradition, no hierarchy, no person, is untouchable.

But revenge...revenge is a funny thing. It's like holding a match while standing in a room full of gasoline. You think you can control it, that you can aim it exactly where you want it to burn. But fire doesn't care about control. It just wants to consume.

And maybe that's what scares me the most.

Change is coming. I can feel it in my bones. I don't know what it looks like yet, or how it's going to hit, but I know it's going to hurt.

And when it does, when the dust settles and the fire dies down, I wonder what'll be left of me. Of any of us.