The first rule of Fight Club is: You never talk about Fight Club.

We're all laughing at you.

Why don't you see it?

You have become so ugly, a grand façade with little substance to support it. One day you will crumble - so miserably - and I won't be here to witness the undoing.

I envision your future, and I've been tempted to reveal it to you. To coax you over the edge then allow you to fall into a bitter realization of the destiny you've created for yourself.

Like a muscle that may only grow stronger after being repeatedly torn down, you shall never evolve without experiencing great pain. Pain like that you've mercilessly inflicted on others. But, THIS kind, you're just to cowardly to feel. I fear you'll never quite be able to endure it.

You see, pain is some physical manifestation of honesty. It is the voice of your soul; that is why you abhor it so. There is little truth left in this life you've cultivated.

Where, my girl, have you gone?

And why is it that not one of us will deign to beg for your return? Someone's stolen your form and we're all too frightened or too inconvenienced to confront her. To force her out, or at the very least, demand some explanation for her presence here.

She's your Tyler Durden.

No one's saying it. But, we all know. We've some innate sense of what's really going on - an understanding. You, however, are hopelessly unaware. That, or you've done a spectacular job of appearing so.

So, my girl, get your gun. Because there's only one way out of this mess.