The white blank, the empty page, the vacuous and vicious invitation of destinations unknown and a future cruel and opaque,
I know, to the depths of my soul, that to stay would be a mistake. Certain lives are long roads, driven by fate,
full of storms and regrets and twists and turns without brakes.
I know that winter is coming. I have to stop, get out of this cage before it's too late. Of falling stars and dark lanes and
run over snakes. Life is like a bullet train, with so many dark stops along the way. Velocity eventually drives one crazy.
They're right of course. Gravity is a god, and chaos is slowly killing me.