It might sound cliche, but I hate this record. I hate how perfectly it says all of the things that I can't say when I feel that crushing helplessness that every last minute of this album was born from. I hate how badly I wish I could say these wonderfully crafted words myself, but can't. I hate how the ethereal, melancholy production provides the backdrop for my own fears and mistakes. I hate how this record would just be made of these beautiful instrumentals if I was the rapper. I hate that I know others have problems much larger and more important than Sadistik's and I's, and yet we both treat them like they're the worst thing to ever happen. The truth is, it's the worst to happen to us, so I guess in our world, it is the worst thing to ever happen. It sounds selfish, and it totally is, but that's all part of the disease known as depression that we, and millions of others across the world, carry. And I can't speak for those millions, but to me, this album portrays depression down to the last inch. All pretentious, sad-time, sobby-weepy crap aside, all I really want anyone to get from this soundoff is that I find this album to be absolutely incredible, even if I hate it.