So many precious words to echo into the abyss, nothing so different in a recipe for cookies to sage advice, just language used to convey value into the empty in hopes it may land somewhere in such a way that it’s value may be recognized and so our own value be validated through companionship. 

How lovely it would be. 

It feels like I’ve lived a long 23 years, and as I approach the end of my 24th I can’t help but reverberate with dissonance. The depth and complexity of philosophies and principles have reached the point where one might act the same with or without them, save for their intentions. I stand amidst my life’s work, bearing the scars and wear to show for it. I stare stoically into the abyss and howl for the hero I ought to be while recalling glittering jewels I’ve adored in life and ascribe value for the sake of nostalgia. I don’t have a father, yet before I even reached 13 I played the part for my dear siblings. I looked for idols and found a few, in stories of heroics and things normal people never do. I’ve grown into a man with will and aspirations too vast and unbound to reach for whilst gripping the earth. A sleeping golem, a resting beast, a withered ancient in a throne with bones that creak. I’ve no fear for death and contemplate my life, I’ve acquainted the good, the bad and the truth and find myself just about ready to burst through. Now I stand in contemplation due to the bindings that bury deep and have to consider my state. My character is burning, my soul is roaring, my bones are on fire. I want nothing less than to ignite and run wild in a naïve blaze of hope and glee in search for a calling I hope this world holds for me. Yet here I sit in continued compromise in derogatory dealings with a devilish haunt whispering insidious sentiments. Points that speak of the arrogance of the weak and the ways the scared grow spines.