Is your life a story worth telling? Or do you toil in obscurity? Is you life marked by events worthy of being talk of around a fire? Or is every day the same drudgery and the last? Do the days blend together in a sea of brown? Are you a wild horse upon the prairie? Or are you a draft animal pulling the same mill stone in circles day after day?
And are you okay with this? Have you accepted your fate? Are you already broken, and compliant to your oppression? Then why are you here? Why are you reading this? Or do you still yearn for something more?
Professor Harbinger's School for Villains 