Gather round and hear the legend of the eternal suffering of one whom the ancients named Wojak, who was doomed to traverse this earthly plane experiencing unending agony. Agony not at the behest of his rival, Pepe, who was always there to serve as a constant reminder of and, at times, the apparent source of Wojak's pain, but as Pepe would often point out, it was the one thing Wojak refused to see, that he was himself, in fact, the source of his own languish. For you see, Wojak and Pepe were one and the same. A tadpole to a frog, if you will. The struggle of two had only ever been the illusion of one—the failure to let go of one's own lamentation. Of course, the more Pepe presented this simple truth, in his own mischievous ways, the tighter Wojak would resist, clutching to his own woes as a child clings to a blanket or stuffed animal for security. For the fear of what would follow the abandonment of such angst made the uknown seem far greater than any self inflicted burden he had thus far borne. And so began, and continues, the Sisyphean struggle of the one called Wojak.