There was a lot of mist. Coconut-scented mist.

Also kept me nice and cool.

What am I feeling? Hope? It's like hope, mixed with stubborness, and pride, maybe a little spite. This drive to keep moving forward. The doubt is there, as it always is. An ember that cannot be snuffed out. Just keep it away from the oily rags of despair and the paint thinner of apathy.

I'm not hurting all the time. Which is nice. But of course, it damages my image. I've got an image to uphold, don't I? I hope not. Seems like a lot of work. 

I wonder what I would choose for a name if I could get a free name change. I'm happy with my last name. Has a z in it. Easy to yell. First name, though. Maybe something just awful. Like Peppleridge, or Hortimus. Gippens. Phlogiston. Bolligraf.

Something like that.