- November 18th, 2002
How long has it been? I know not. It seems like centuries have passed and yet I remain. I don't know what else to ponder except the meaning of life and how it always has some unnexpected twist in the end. We are all blabbering fools who create dreams, which are the children of an idle brain. How to put one's thoughts into words, if words are just figments of one's own imagination? Who's to say it's real? Who's to say I'm real? We are all sensory perceptions of our own biased thoughts and influences. Once broken free from the container your mind has been imprisoned in, then you shall know the truth... if there is any left in this corrupted planet.