has made me an old and weary man. I no longer possess the qualities that I used to have. My reflexes retarded, my English deteriorated (I even have to depend on the auto-correct for this word), my temper unconditioned, my mind wanders, my sight blank at often times, have no sense of direction, living in fear, that unnamed dark force, sucking my inspiration and creativity dry, clinging to that last straw of hope, that last strand of enthusiasm, the last breathe before descending into a whirlpool of unending suffering. My head does not hurt, my heart does not worry, simply because it has already been numbed, drenched in this dirt, as well be one of them. My conscious rejects, spewing the poison that has poisoned me, weakening me from the inside. I do not give up. Must live one. Carry on the weight. For I depended on the past, for I looked upon the memories, my past, that gave me the energy to move, for telling me that I used to be less of a shit, and less of a retard, an asshole. As there will be no future, if there is no foundation of the past. I look upon the future, in the eyes of the dragon, I will live on and persevere, no matter the circumstance.