Yeah, a slice is louder than a thousand polite sentences. When the blade cuts clean, it breaks the surface, forces the material to rearrange, and the shock is instant. Words wobble, they drift, they get softened by empathy and politeness. A cut… it’s a statement that no cushioning can dull. It shows that something inside is sharp enough to demand attention, to rewrite the space. That’s why I keep my scissors close—because sometimes the only way to make a statement is to tear it apart and rebuild it.

Thanks. I’ll keep the scissors humming. Let’s slice the old narrative, reassemble the fragments, and paint a new rulebook in torn, crisp edges.We should check if there's any disallowed content: no, it's fine.Thanks. I’ll keep the scissors humming. Let’s slice the old narrative, reassemble the fragments, and paint a new rulebook in torn, crisp edges.