There are no more indies to work. All I have in common with the spot and the monkey, the work rate and the ring psychology, all the dimes I have not drawn and my utter indifference toward it I have now surpassed. My segments are repetitive and dull and I do not hope for a better storyline for anyone. In fact, I want my Codyverse to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape, but even after admitting this, there is no catharsis. My daddy's legacy continues to elude me and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself. No new knowledge can be extracted from my telling. My kingdom has meant nothing.
