The End.

Somethings are just over. Not in actuality but I can feel that the journey has met its end.

I could have chosen differently for myself. I could have. But what's the point of following something that isn't real?

Hypotheticals are lonely children, stranded on a desert, eyes stained with dirty tears. The truth is a figment of a psychotic's vivid and disturbed imagination.

I stand in one place.