Guess Who's Back

On an enticing and unforgiving precipice, lovingly created by a mysterious Slartibartfast amidst the viciously folding fjords, I stand, in perfect form, yearning for that clarification. Face upturned, eyes hopeful, breath shallow in anticipation. The journey was arduous, but only just so. The reward, however, was great and wonderful and also, just, for it was now my time. As if on cue, the clouds parted and I saw the light...

Incredibly dense, must I be. Or very very scared. For nothing has changed- I feel no heavier, think no wiser, believe no stronger.

At the end of it, there is an overwhelming desire to unhinge. Literally. Balls to come out of their sockets, and synovial joints to 'decouple' in whatever manner they may do so, with little or no discomfiture. Limbs and extremities and ribs and the troubled head and the always bleary eyes. All stacked up in a nice little pile, useless and in an orientation of minimum energy.
The last thing a soul such as me needs is a way back to normal madness.

I agree, this sounds just boring, senseless and a tad self-indulgent.
Blah!