A storm has come. Despiteful, wrathful, mirthless and despaired. A storm has come and all the facility I would rather have been trying to afford, had come to a termination. Termination, the truth which leads to a predictable end. My end.

Yet there is hope and volition to fight. To battle the inside devil. No sorrow and no abandonment. The exasperation is heavy. It is on it's way to annihilate my beeing, to destroy me. Yet, I am here to fight. To fight for my liberty and pursuit of happiness.

Dream. I did incur the wrath of myself, hence the projection adjacent innocents. Dream and conquer, raised by hope. Dreams shall never extinguish, may it happen and rather become sudden and true.

Dream my dear.