Plaster Caster.

And so it was that I discovered that I must change, or I must die. I also knew that I had gone so far, and changed so much.

And if I were to still live, I would become a thing I would find unrecognizable from the glassy pane of my morning cast of light. A thing that while not necessarily worse, certainly alien and disheartening.

This is why death exists. It comes for us when change is no longer possible. For the world will change without us, and we adore and loathe it for such cruel wonder.