Micolus the Colossus

Jurakian foces have bested me. I'm dead; dying; and from my remains a new dawn shall rise, a new tide will spring. But first, they must force in the final and fatal blow. Finish me off, already, you scum.

I wonder how it feels

I wonder if this world dissolves and all that I thought logical dissappears

I wonder if it will make me free

I wonder because I now that I will never experience it.

I am far too weak

She asked me today: What is the world? How do you feel about it right now?

I feel as though I'm sitting in a confined room, talking to a psychologist. A psychologist who has recently found out about some child hood trauma of mine, which I had blissfully forgotten. And it is as though she is plling out all these nasty horrible memories from the past and I shout that they are all lies and I try to escape down my blissful little box but THE WORLD just keeps haunting me, hunting me... Run

Adieu