Look at our Tomb

When I was a child I had an aura of profound curiosity and wonder with the world around me. The influences of fictional worlds and thoughtful literature were my only guides, and I was rigidly separated from the ideals of logic and common sense that surrounded me. The immersion of everyday life was non-existent and I was satisfied in my path of unknown future.

When I grew older the meaningless monotony of the non-fiction world began to decay my soul. The immersion of survival in the Commonlands of society was not matched with a challenge greater then that of boredom. The rigid lethargy of the common people broke me from my shell and turned my thoughts of mysticism and imagination into impractical tools to be looked down upon, to be pushed aside and ridiculed.

The aura of individuality grows dim in the light of a desire for a steady hand. Insights into dream worlds and conceptions of universal truth are not matched by the importance of clocking in to work at a specified hour. We are not bound by the teaching of what we can do that is different, but by what we can achieve that is the same as those that do not dream.

Sleep, sleep forever.