• What is there to life, if ever there was such a thing? Should I take it as something that randomly generates memories, and moments that will pass as the clock keeps on ticking slowly, but surely? Or is it one of those things that will always tend to disappoint and create memories that I wish to forget at the end of my days? The truth, is that I have no answer to these question. For I have no answer to even my own existence as a whole. There are no words that can describe the utter pain, and suffering that I feel at the loss of what was once mine. But knowing that perhaps it will be better off without my existence, is something that I can look forward to every day that I choose to wake up. For there are those few days that I have no wish to even stand up from my own bed, let alone to live on without that which I once had.
    But not without acknowledging, that what I once knew, had brought me true happiness. Even though it may have been for a brief time, those moments that I had shared brought me joy and peace. My heart and soul are forever lost as far as I know, but knowing what I know now, I would still choose to come to where I am today. A worthless brute, incapable of protecting that which is important to it. A sightless seer, that believes himself to be a wise-man, when in fact he is nothing but a fool.
    A poet with the will to live, but with the soul of a clown that always draws the wrong vibes toward him at the wrong times...only to be left with sorrow and disappointment as it's companions. No one to speak to...no one to depend on except the very select few that have chosen to tolerate it's actions. To tolerate it's mistakes that it made, thinking that it was making the right decisions in it's life. Nothing more to speak, but riddles, and more questions that will never be answered no matter how many eons may pass.
    If only there was an answer as to why all this may happen, but it will never be, for the universe has seen fit that these things come to pass. It is seen as fit, that these sufferings must be endured, in order that we may live to become stronger as a whole. But what if instead of becoming stronger, we merely become weaker to that which plagues us? What if we merely become that which we fear and despise...no matter how hard we may fight it.
    Such thoughts plague my mind, and will forever haunt my nightmares and dreams. For dreams will forever be obscure to me, or so it may seem. Thoughts of happiness are always as dreams for me, for they seem to never come true, and I always awake from them. Forcefully, and without warning, they sneak upon my soul and make me become entirely what I sought to fight off. Insanity is but a disease that plagues those that choose to let it plague them. But what of those that wish to be free of it's influence? What of those that wish to become something more than they already are?
    Truly, we are fools for believing that something other than fate drives our lives. Or at least, at this stage in life, it has become second nature to feel that way. Truly we are fools, to believe that something other than what we are capable of, can become a part of our lives...life is a but a dream...a dream that we all must awaken from someday. Only to discover that which is behind that curtain, is something much worse than that which is in front of us already...