Side comment: One night I was full of wayward thoughts and so I put them into words - more precisely, a paragraph.

Caustic in his reasoning, he knew not how or when because his essential fears and doubts that transposed themselves to all his aspirations until he was filled with a sort of desperation and awe. How boorish they all seemed with their high and mighty systematic themes and stereotypical nondescript clothing. Was he simply apart in his cynicism? He could not fathom the repercussions of what his previous actions would soon bring but knew of the blatant disregard and indifference in which he would handle them. Why should he be bothered by them? He was better than the situation at hand and better than the people whom filled his waking moments with their insecure and pathetic murmuring. Relationships were for the dogs and power came to those that did not easily merge with the masses but rather arose with fierce pride and relentlessness that came with their stolid resistance to a higher organization. Euphoria was no longer an option and the continuous operations were acting as catalysts for a new nation with a gnawing hunger for war, money and hate.