We're wondrous beasts of a chaotic pulse. Many hearts and many minds working behind the face of one. We are as we believe we are, as we believe we are viewed, and what we know deep down inside. Each and every one of ourselves has a hero's journey, but now and again we'll question if we are truly the villain after all.

The things that make us soft begin to turn cold, and our skin becomes hardened. Our steps slow down in comparison to others. There is a shame in spying oracles, but the watchers in our eyes cannot help themselves sometimes. The expectations can wither the heart with guilt we may know what comes next. Has it become winter in here..? Did we become the place where dreams and passion go to die before spring arises anew elsewhere?

..ah..I feel..sick.

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