Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?.I don't care I'm still free. You can't take the sky from me. When you can't run you crawl and when you can't do that, you find someone to carry you.
It doesn't make sense. It never does. Does it have to?
The countless sprawling hours wasted spent in a place ordinary people never look back on and take especially for granted, does it make me? It effects me. And when I see it staring back at me through the inch thick of my wall room mirror, do I kill it? But then what will I become, what am I now.
I don't need to know. It doesn't have to make sense. I don't need a reason to feel or get up or do. I have to. Quite frankly the time ticks in all dimensions and we have but left a trinkle at our fingertips while the rest is crashing down on us.
I don't feel. Or get up. Or do, anything. I can't. I will never know.
But.. why?
