I don't give a fuck.

A filthy breeze washed through the air, and the skin upon his face tightened. He was alone, yet somehow he was surrounded by people. Organically identical, yet so different. A street light cast an eerie gaze upon the scene below, and as the breeze whipped around the block he nervously eyed the path that lay ahead, navigating his way through the hordes of the effectually deceased, blurred with disdain. A hatred seeped through his skin for all those he encountered. He was not hateful nor was he equally despised, yet he was happy to tar each and every single independent individual with the same characteristics, no matter how they proved him otherwise. It was not that he did not wish to seek the spanning idiosyncrasies that could so bond one another together. He was just more Hyde than Jekyll, despite the fact it was Jekyll that the illimitable masses discerned.

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