Oh the dreaded moment of creation. How have I come to despise you. However, my life seems to come to a standstill, each time I fail to satisfy my personal urges for you ...
I have reached my thirty third year on this planet and it already feels like a lifetime. Whatever I may have tried seems to have failed miserably. Mankind is beyond me ...
We have our moments, us human beings, those deceptive flashes of brilliance. But these moments are what usually end up plunging me deeper into my personal melancholy.
At times it seems to me that we currently relive the dark ages. These are the ages of individualism and no matter how many superheroes I create, no matter how much I dig into my imagination, so as to build scenaria where people end up truly loving each other, in the end, it all proves to be futile.
They all have their own petty hidden agendas. The all weave their web of deception and if you cannot go with the flow, you end up looking from the outside. All alone ...
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