November 10, 2004


I have not been writing for I fear that the staleness of my mind would reflect splendidly in the words that I can come up with. With passage of time, the only destination of inevitability draws even closer. It resembles an ever-darkening shadow lingering over each and every thought in an already lightless world that has little in common with the environment that surrounds it. I feel precariously naked, stripped of any convictions or beliefs and shivering like a weakened twig burdened by the weight of its own unrealistic expectations.