I wander about, with an inch and a quarter of iron sitting deep within my skull. I drift. I've changed.
Lost and wandering through a thick fog. Snapping at anything foolish enough to dog my heels.
I wasn't always like this. I wasn't always Phineas Gage.
Before my insides were carved away I was a different kind of man. I had a fire burning in my soul. I had a penchant for unapologetic idealism, fearlessness and resolve in the face of dire calamity, and utter disdain for the filthy compromises of bi partisan politics. I had not yet turned bitter. Then was the time to know me, before the erosion of the elements.
