Your Flesh Sac will whisper wearingly to you, if you let it. Letting you know that your knees are giving, your rib cage is creaking, and your heart is just sort of fucking tired. Your Flesh Sac will point out the fleeting Liminal Burp that is all your life. Do not listen. Do not believe its lies. It is the only way to sally forth into the resplendent Gloom of Oblivion that awaits us all with your head held high.

(Unless someone decapitates you and raids the Gates of Eternity with your Head on a Pike. There is also that way.)

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