There is a never ending cycle of life that continues to go on no matter how hard you wish to god it would stop. Things will always be born and things will always die. There is never "the right time" for either and we are never fully prepared.
I find myself in a state that has kept my here. Here in my melancholy state of absence. I am a force of nothing. I am no beacon of hope or love. I am no bearer of fear of hate. What am I? The hole that develops in a person, more specifically me, gets to a point that it takes over. I am not a shell but I am no longer myself. It is weird having to put effort in being a part of your own life.
