I have no idea.

A short extended metaphor about my relinquishing of control.

I finally feel free. I have escaped my human overlords, that meaning exiting the egg capsules. I have forsaken and left my siblings, for let the dead bury the dead. I tussle down the downslope mountain as an egg meeting that grand cataclysmic, almost fascinating, future of the splattering. The yolk shall disperse from the crackened, for all to exactly see what quality of yolk had grew cultivated in my womb. Indeed, I count myself as an addition to the curious wonderers of this revelation. I will say that I yolk assumably will be peculiar, because my shell is peculiar. Yet notably, my assumptions are not seldom right, but really and actually heavily misguided: my assumptions are misguided a lot, so much that when I realise the misguiding, it annoys me so much that my mind now favours the misguided, or the very falsehood from it.