Real talk – a message from a nobody

This is me. Not a character I wrote. Not a fake journal entry. Me. Who am I? A stereotype, mostly. I’m the nerd who lives in a basement (well, attic in my case) and plays video games, reads, and writes fiction. That’s the outside.

Mad man

This world only gets worse. Day by day. Hell, hour by hour. In the end, nothing we do matters much. We go through life expecting to accomplish something, to matter in a grander scheme. Invent something to change the world. Write something profound enough to enact change. Continue our bloodline to achieve some semblance of immortality through each descendant for years to come.

Inventions become obsolete. Words printed to paper fade, or exist long enough only to be warped to fit another’s twisted viewpoint. Mere accidents or even fate, if you believe in such a thing, can cut down any family tree in an instant.