It was hard being alone in the room...
Writting helped, the ghost helped, the daemon helped in his own twisted way, but it was lonely and sometimes depressing.
And yet i look back fondly at the memories i made back then, at the writtings i produced back then, the time spent in solitude, the confort of being shielded off the outside world.
There was a strange feeling of delight knowing that no matter what, i would be safe here.
Out there... i did not know what was out there and frankly i had no intention of finding out at first, everything i needed i had in the room.
My spirit of adventure got the best of me though and i left, but what i found was not what i expected.
But what exactly did i expect anyway?
Before being locked away the world was doing not so well, so why would that have changed in my absence?
A bitter place this world is, not by itself of course, but by the people that inhabit it.
People fighting over matters so trivial in my young eyes... and still trivial in my old eyes.
They say that war never changes, but they are wrong...
The one that never changes is manking, thus making everything stagnant.
War doesnt change because humankind does not change...
Where do i stand amidst this madness?
Do i want to change how the world works or die trying?
Or do i want to live my life with no regard of the world, doing what i want to do till my time is taken from me?