We're bionic, completely supersonic...

I've been thinking a lot about you these last few days. Wondering why the journey I'm on seemed to have led through you. I know it's not over yet, and that life is a winding path, but I hope it somehow circles back to the place I belong. What I'm trying to say is that you're there, in everything I am, in everything I've ever done...

I don't live for others. I do what's right for me, even if it hurts someone I love. People come, people go - they drift in and out of our lives almost seamingly, like characters in a book. They have told their story and you start up again, fresh, with new characters and adventures, then suddenly those from the past don't seem so interesting anymore. A fraction of a memory remains, waiting to be reignited by a flame that was never truly lit...

Finishing the last page of the first draft is the most enjoyable moment in writing, actually it's one of the most enjoyable moments in life. And even though failure is predetermined, the magic never really fades. There, deep inside, lies the beauty of it all, the meaning of our existence, the man behind the mask - a petrified boy, trying with all his might, to create something, anything, that can make people understand, not who he is, but who he wants to become...