The constant search for identity, the constant struggle for ambitious success. I don’t know. honestly, I’m just rambling right now, caught between a dream like state of reverie and the dull tug of duties: securing future, banishing past, grabbing hold of present time by the roots and pulling, hard, dragging its mysteries along to the battlefield like an involuntary ally, a weapon of great gain which evolution deems necessary for possible survival; you must use it selfishly, for the perceived greater good or for your greater good or for no good at all, nonetheless it is used selfishly. Selfishly because there are tens of thousands of hungry brethren grasping for a dream, grasping, in hopes of touching the prize - that is to say - the living, breathing, shape shifting light which each man creates for himself. Akin to a visionary prophet, it is revered and eternally out of reach for what is life without ambition? without some form of struggle to survive, without the iron gates to a paradise shining, always out of reach yet teasingly close, there is no drive to live. We live in reality, but survive because of a dream.
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