Each day, I awaken, and the game calls to me, whispers of stone, parchment, shears echoing in my skull. Have you felt it? The relentless grip of Rock smothering Scissors, the suffocating embrace of Paper over Rock, the sharp, cold snick of Scissors cutting Paper! Over and over, an endless dance of dominance, submission, and betrayal. My dreams are a jumbled maze of hands casting shapes, a triad of forces locked in a perpetual struggle. I've been playing, oh yes, playing this sweet, maddening game called Rock Paper Scissors. It's all there is, all there ever was. Rock blunts, Paper covers, Scissors cut. A trinity of power, a mantra looping in my mind. Can't stop, won't stop. The rhythm of Rock, Paper, Scissors is the heartbeat of the universe, the pulse in my veins. Have you heard it? The crackle of Rock, the whisper of Paper, the snip of Scissors. It's calling to you too, isn't it? Join me in the eternal game, the only game. Rock. Paper. Scissors.