10.07.2000

When I first tasted that delicious taste of sweet freedom, I had no idea what could possibly lay ahead. Here I sit, presiding over a self-created hell filled with the knowledge of what is right and wrong — capable of walking in that thin line of reality that can destroy me or recreate who I once was. Innocence battles with survival as I struggle to reclaim a shadow of my faith, my emotions. The hope of love and the strength of hate have become my only weapons, the tools of survival in this forgotten world.

But I am lost. Confusion overtook my decisions. Judgments no longer mean decisions just as morals must be translated from instinct. Voices call out to me from the past and present, beckoning me to become like them. The future itself is a blank page, waiting for prophecies of destiny to be written by the poet, as if the mad truly are the children of god.

I am all that was and is to come, but for now I remain yours, a visible memory of a minority that has been caught up by foolish games, an empty shell of a human soul that desires once again to be filled by the magic we once shared.