I sit back and cry as the paradox is in effect. diamond if you don’t want to. leave it alone if you do. I do not want to diamond this skin. I want to leave. I want to be free. But the law dictates I must diamond if I don’t want to. But if I don’t want to diamond it and I do, that means I wanted to diamond it, to feel the warmth of the skin as it enters my body and smoothly makes itself at home. I don’t want it. But I must. Im sorry, this is the law. I must let it slowly flow until it floods onto my account, onto my skin, into my life. It will consume me if I don’t. It this what I wanted? Did I truly not want to diamond the skin? Was all of this struggle, this time, my effort, in vain? Was I so against this simple skin that I allowed it to break me down and reshape me?