04. 08. 2010

I've always liked to believe that there's a fine line between love and hate, genius and madness, good and evil. Out of those three, the pairs rarely meet a virtue. My recent escape had me thinking about a whole lot more than what I'm used to. The circumstances at hand and the fortune I've been granted never seem to matter any longer. I still don't think I'll ever be able to find utter solitude. I am physically alone more than I should be, I suppose, but I'm fine with that. What I haven't grown accustomed to are the sober shadows lurking behind my back. All intertwined with antiquated happenings and flooded wood floors. Things may never be the same, and things may always remain. Discovering what you're in control of seems to be the hard part.