The endless struggle of humanity continued. It didn’t matter how many had died in the past, it didn’t matter how many were dying, or were destined to die, they continued. Some did it for personal gain, some for a cause, though a few, and a growing majority did it because they knew nothing else, because they wanted nothing else. Some could easily place themselves within a category, most didn’t care. Orson, on the other hand, didn’t know for which he was destined, sometimes he thought that he didn’t care, but these small windows of self-enforced bliss never lasted, and he was always forced to tumble back down into a spiral of self-be-wonderment.

A boy I dedicated to an ex boyfriend.