Even in the end, hope is stubborn. A cry in the dark. A scream in the void. Unheard, unseen, unnoticed, but there. Always there.

Ghosts disappear, but legends never fade.

Is that why we tell stories? To save those we lost?

I don’t trust people who help me without threat or reward.

The phoenix never sleeps. Infinity never dies.

We’re balanced. Soulmates. Two halves of the same spirit.

Time passes quick when you’re up and slow when you’re down.

The luxury of youth was never given to me. I was born a man, bred a monster, and bloomed like a weed to eclipse the sun.

I ache to be needed, to be wanted, because of my negligent mother. I know, I know. Get over it, Julian. But childhood is a critical period where seeds are set for the shitty plant metaphor we all become.