Take a chance,
and never look back.
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As I continue to document my ever-circular rise and fall, I ponder what all of you must think of me. Do you imagine what I look like? How my voice resonates against the walls, how my thick brown hair gently sways as the wind blows leafs off trees, or how my melancholic gaze would make you tremble? Do you find meaning in the words I write or do they fall on death ears? Do they make you feel better, like someone knows exactly the pain you've experienced and the magnitude of agony you've endured? I wonder how your perceptions would change if we ever came face to face. If we would recognise each other without uttering a single word or above all else if we would understand one another without questions or misunderstandings. I guess what I'm trying to say is that you've become important to me. Forever quiet voyagers laying witness to a boy who wants the world, and won't settle for anything less. It seems to me that you have become my friends, my family, even though we've never met, even though we never will.
