A paragraph.

The contract between you and your soul, signed in a desperate moment so as not lose sight of yourself, but instead feed your selfishness while others are starved of identity. The end product is always fruitless, and sick to the taste, but for some people simply being infamous is close enough.

I wish I was one of those poor souls. I have been enriched with enough knowledge to know the difference, but not enough to make a difference. I’m a grey area, a footnote, and a cancerous cell that’s just biding it’s time before it finally becomes malignant.

1. That's two paragraphs.
2. The contract between subject and predicate.
3. Wat.