On edge. That's what I am. That's where I am. This is almost the brink, I think. A people oppressed will revolt. Look at Iran. When driven to the smallest of corners, even the tiniest rat will counter-attack, teeth snarling. That's because there's nothing to lose anymore; in sight of a better alternative out there, with the knowledge that there simply can't possibly be anything left to forgo. Give anymore, and the soul gets eroded away. A change beckons, and either you let yourself wither in the doldrums of surrender or snatch at any perceived inch of hope of a revolution.
I wonder how long more I can wait, or how much more I can take, before the snap happens. My arteries of patience are being sapped dry.
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