There's a streetlamp outside my window that flickers erratically every night at midnight. It's like a fucked-up metronome, counting down the seconds to my inevitable downfall. Each flicker is a reminder that I'm spiraling, that I've made too many wrong turns, and that the universe is mocking me with its epileptic Morse code. Tonight, I'll stand under its glow, daring it to strike me down like the charred moth I am. Let's see if the light brings revelation or just another bad decision.