Empty hopes and last dreams in some binary code

I can't write morality speeches, because my morals and ideals were long ago burned, leaving me in a grey space. Not knowing what to do next.

I have no goal, no wishes, and no ambition. Basically I'm an empty body circulating around you. I'm losing appetite for life, almost like everything is tasteless food. I have neither hunger nor strength.

It's this absence of strength, keeps me from cutting my string and having a face to face meeting with Hades.

 

I learned that there are two kinds of good men in this world; the ones who dream about flying but keep their feet on the ground, and those who put bumps on seats.

Has for me I'm living in the underground, and the show that is my life has put the every seat in epilepsy choc.

Every day I wait for better dreams, and as they don't come, I wish time could run faster, and I wonder, if my wish came true, would I ever regret wishing it or will it jump right to the end, leaving no place for regrets.

 

A Young Gentleman should not write such words, because he has still a great path ahead – Then again, maybe that's why my team mates called me "The old man", giving them the possibility to joke, every time I miss a social event, about the possibility of maybe perhaps of me losing my breath, for one last time…

Death reminds me of immortality. Immortality in the sense that I would be remember long after I pasted away. I used to think I would go immortal, to be remembered like Guy Fawkes, Achilles and Beethoven. But after having forgotten what I would stand for… There's nothing to be remembered about, except the eventual entry in this little unknown and abandon blog.

Posts about economy (or so I say), physics, social relations, games, movies, chronicles about our time, past and future. A hell bunch of words, that at the end of the day are just o's and ones strangely organized.

Empty hopes and last dreams in some binary code. Where would you put your last hopes on?

John Scar Kramer and Rorschach