It seems like everytime I turn around another day has past.

In an endless series of happenings and crossings I lose myself in the physical world.

I forget about those I care about, I obsess over those I don't.

This meaningless progression of atrophy, I only regret not being what I wanted to be.

If I have any hope of not becoming something I'm not, then I shouldn't waste my time with what can never be.

I have much to give this world, be it for better or for worse.

I can only imagine a day when I look back without regret, fearing only what I allow to frighten me.

I miss my friends here at Deviant Art.

You know who you are.



Darth Horus will be back before the second coming, promise.