It's like I've been a zombie all this while, shuffling along happily, completely immune and blind to the winds of change.

And now, now is when God decides that I have had my fun and smacks a talisman on my forehead. It's on my freaking forehead; I can't run and I can't hide.

We all know what happens next. I either pulverise, disintegrate into nothingness or spasm and die frothing at the mouth. I'm spoilt for choice.